


I Think I Want You to Try

by anglophileadventures



Series: Fuckboi Newt [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: (ok technically shower oral but that's not a tag on here), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Desk Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Motorcycle Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, also Thomas cries a lot, idk how to do this, it's like 65 percent smut 30 percent fluff and 5 percent angst, kind of?, there's lots of sex ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anglophileadventures/pseuds/anglophileadventures
Summary: Thomas is still heartbroken over his ex, Aris, even after almost a year. And he hasn't gotten any in just as long. But now he knows who he wants to end his dry spell: Newt, the aloof cool guy with a bad reputation. A sex-only, no-strings-attached relationship is exactly what he needs.The only problem? Thomas isn't really cut out for the kind of relationship where feelings aren't involved. (I think you know where this is going...)





	1. Some princes don't become kings

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout out to Amirah ([thatdragonchic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdragonchic/pseuds/thatdragonchic)) for inventing the concept of Fuckboi Newt. This literally wouldn't exist without you. It also wouldn't exist without the constant encouragement of Amirah, Amy ([rxtrogression](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxtrogression/pseuds/rxtrogression)), and Chloe ([fansarewaiting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fansarewaiting/gifts)). Y'all are the actual best and I love you. Where my fuckboi newt squad at????
> 
> This was pretty much just the product of those TBS thirst sessions on the discord. Seriously, every time you see a long description of Newt's body, that came directly after a thirst session. And that's why Thomas is such a Thirsty Bitch™. I literally just stared at pictures of TBS on a motorcycle for hours and then channeled all my thirst to write Thomas. DON'T JUDGE ME.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas is a Thirsty Bitch™.

Thomas really needed to get laid.  
  
It had been nearly a year since he had been with anyone. Since he had even kissed anyone. And it was starting to become a Thing. A mental block, something he couldn’t get past. Any time he got even remotely in the vicinity of flirting with a cute guy, his brain would just shut down.  
  
He blamed Aris.  
  
Aris, Thomas’s ex-boyfriend, with whom he’d been truly, madly, deeply in love. Still was, if he was being honest with himself. And Aris, that stupid shank, was the reason Thomas hadn’t gotten any in almost a year. Aris was the last person he had been with, and any time he thought about moving on, he would remember some detail about the way he felt with Aris, or about some special thing Aris had done that he was certain no one else would do, and that was it. Thomas spent the rest of the night crying in the bathroom, and made feeble excuses to his dates over text messages until they finally took the hint and stopped trying to make future plans.  
  
But all that was over, because Thomas had decided enough was enough and he needed to finally get the fuck over Aris. He had actually written it down, along with a list of his other New Year’s resolutions, because he had read somewhere that people who write down their goals are more likely to achieve them, although he hadn’t shown anyone the list because it seemed a tad pathetic.  
  
Thomas was determined to get over Aris, and he knew exactly how he wanted to do it, too. Or rather, he knew exactly who he wanted to do.  
  
Newt.  
  
Thomas didn’t actually know him that well, but they had a few mutual friends, and they’d been at a few of the same house parties. What he had heard about Newt wasn’t exactly glowing, but in a way his reputation only made Thomas want him more. Sure, Newt seemed… _dangerous_ , somehow. Like he could chew Thomas up and spit him out without a second thought. But Thomas thought that might be exactly what he wanted. He’d always been a bit of a thrillseeker, but since Aris had ripped his heart out and taken a giant shit on it, he’d really embraced his tendency toward high-risk behaviour: he’d been skydiving, bungee jumping; he rode all the biggest and scariest roller coasters; he climbed things he wasn’t supposed to climb and didn’t care if he fell (not that he ever had); on nights out he got roaring drunk and was notorious among his friends for taking any stupid dare they could possibly think up. Eventually every thrill faded, but Thomas kept chasing the next one, kept going, kept moving at all times (that way there was less time for thinking). And the next thrill he wanted to chase was Newt.  
  
Besides, Thomas had done everything right the first time around, with Aris, and he had still ended up heartbroken and miserable. Aris was the archetypal Nice Guy. He was universally adored. He loved dogs and cats and basically all animals, especially the small fluffy ones. He was always polite to everyone, especially people in the service industry. On nights out, he helped not-quite-blackout-drunk people get cabs and paid for their journey home, for fuck’s sake. He never pushed Thomas, emotionally or sexually, past where he was comfortable. And none of that had stopped Aris from hurting Thomas more than anyone else had ever been able to hurt him.  
  
So this time, Thomas was going to fuck the hot asshole, and to hell with the consequences. (At least this time he knew going in that this man was going to destroy him.)  
  
And Newt was precisely Thomas’s type of hot asshole. Tall, thin frame; blond hair that was just the perfect amount of purposely messy; deep brown eyes that somehow always made him look thoughtful and intelligent; thin, delicate lips that almost looked painted onto his face. He wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle (a Ducati). He smoked hand-rolled cigarettes. He projected calm and confidence with his loose, easy posture; Newt didn’t sit, he lounged. He didn’t speak often, but when he did, it was usually profound. He also slept with a different guy every other week (if you believed the rumours, which Thomas did).  
  
And Thomas wanted him more than he could remember ever wanting anyone. Thomas had a feeling Newt would ruin him, and he wanted Newt to give it his best shot.


	2. Even at the best of times I'm out of my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas is still thirsty and tries to flirt by talking about spotted hyenas and bed bugs.

Tonight was the night. Thomas was sure of it.  
  
He was at another house party, and Newt was there, looking hella fine as per usual. Every time Thomas looked at him, he imagined his fingers running through that lovely mane of blond, tangling themselves in the fine strands. He wondered if Newt’s hair was as soft to the touch as it looked.  
  
Thomas was right in that sweet spot of buzzed but not drunk, and his banter was in top form. Tonight, Thomas was magic. He charmed everyone. And he flirted shamelessly with Newt. He knew he was being completely obvious, that everyone (seriously, _everyone_ ) knew what he was up to. He knew he would be mortified when he sobered up; but for now, the alcohol humming in his veins made him feel invincible, and he didn’t give one single fuck.  
  
Besides, Thomas knew at this point he was much too far gone to play it cool. His only option was to lean aggressively into his desire for Newt and be completely upfront about it, and hope that Newt was into it. And lean aggressively Thomas did.  
  
“Hey, gorgeous,” Thomas drawled, propping himself up on the wall next to Newt.  
  
“Hey,” Newt replied, an amused gleam in his eye.  
  
“Are you enjoying the party?” Thomas asked.  
  
“I’m having a really nice time, actually,” Newt answered, smiling. God, his smile made Thomas feel like he could fly, or jump ten feet in the air, or run a marathon. “What were you and Minho talking about earlier? It looked like everyone was getting pretty animated.”  
  
Thomas couldn’t stop the sly smile that slid across his face. “Oh, we were just talking about clitoromegaly in spotted hyenas.”  
  
“As you do,” Newt said, smirking. To his credit, he looked mostly unfased.  
  
“Yeah, so, female spotted hyenas have such giant clits that for ages people thought hyenas were hermaphrodites, and then for a while they thought the females were males, because their giant clits look like penises and because they’re more dominant.”  
  
“That’s wild,” Newt said. His smile quirked, and his nose wrinkled.  
  
“Yeah, but apparently it makes mating and childbirth really difficult. They don’t have a vagina, the urogenital canal goes through the clitoris, so when they’re mating the males actually have to stick their penis _into_ the clitoris. And when they give birth the baby has to go through the clitoris too. It actually rips so the baby can fit, because spotted hyena babies are enormous.”  
  
“Eugh, that’s disgusting!” laughed Newt. His eyes sparkled as he looked Thomas over.  
  
“If you think that’s bad, you should read about traumatic insemination,” Thomas quipped.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“In some species, like bed bugs, the females don’t have a vaginal opening, so to inseminate them the males have a special kind of spiked penis which they use to stab the female and inject their sperm directly into the abdominal cavity.” Thomas was aware that he was slowly inching closer to Newt, but it hadn’t been a conscious decision.  
  
“That’s terrible! Blegh, it sounds so painful,” Newt’s face scrunched up and his tongue poked out of his mouth. Thomas tried not to think about that tongue doing things to his body.  
  
“Hence the ‘traumatic’ in traumatic insemination,” Thomas said, smiling wickedly. “You know that mural in the biology building on campus?”  
  
“I’ve been past it, yeah.”  
  
“Well, next time you go past it, look at the lower right hand corner, and you’ll see two bed bugs about to get it on, _traumatically_.” Thomas couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of shock and fascination on Newt’s face.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Absolutely. I would not lie to you.” Thomas held his right hand up as if he were swearing in court. “You can even see the spiked penis.”  
  
Newt smiled so wide his whole face stretched sideways, and his eyes crinkled until they nearly disappeared. The fact that Thomas had gotten that reaction out of Newt made him want to sing. Without meaning to, he inched even closer.  
  
Newt noticed. His eyes danced in delight. And it might have been the alcohol, but Thomas could have sworn Newt’s gaze flicked down to his lips for a fraction of a second.  
  
“So, why do you know so much about the mating habits of various species?” Newt asked him, tilting his head inquisitively. “Are you studying zoology?”  
  
“Nah, I’m doing computer science,” Thomas answered breezily. “Unusual animal mating trivia is just a hobby. It’s a pretty useful seduction tactic, actually.” Thomas paused significantly, angling his body even more towards Newt. “It gets people thinking about sex. And then I hit ‘em with this move.” Thomas pulled his most ridiculous smouldering face and stroked the wall he was leaning on ostentatiously.  
  
Newt snickered and did his crinkly-eyed, whole-face smile again. Thomas never wanted to stop making him laugh. “And that works?” Newt asked.  
  
“You tell me,” Thomas said suggestively, and did the move again. Newt laughed. “This is my seduction face. This is how I get _all_ the boys,” Thomas continued. “It’s the stroking that does it. It’s like a subliminal message saying ‘I’ll do this to your penis’.” He repeated the move again, making eye contact with Newt the entire time, flashing him his best ‘do me’ eyes. Newt was still laughing, and Thomas felt a triumphant electricity buzzing through him.  
  
This time it was Newt who leaned fractionally closer to Thomas, and Thomas felt his heart skip a beat. “If that’s your seduction face,” Newt said in a low voice that made Thomas want to devour him, “what’s your cumface?”  
  
Thomas froze for a second. Then his joke-making instinct kicked in. He crossed his eyes, let his jaw go slack with his tongue lolling slightly out of his mouth, and twitched a few times like he was seizing. “About like that,” he said. He was rewarded with another of Newt’s crinkly-eyed, whole-face smiles and a hiss of laughter.  
  
“What’s yours, then?” Thomas asked, a touch of mischief in his tone.  
  
Thomas waited as Newt considered him. His eyes were amused with a hint of challenge; his mouth hung slightly open and he flicked his tongue to one side.  
  
Then he smirked. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, now would we?”  
  
Thomas knew his eyes had gone wide and he probably looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. It was all he could do to keep breathing and standing upright. Unless he was much more drunk than he thought, Newt was flirting back.  
  
Newt pushed languidly off the wall, moving around Thomas. Just before he passed him, he reached up and put two fingers lightly on the skin at the side of Thomas’s neck, just above his collar, and ran them across the back of Thomas’s neck, dipping slightly beneath his collar, then rising up again to the other side of his neck. His touch was light as a breath, and Thomas shivered. He turned to watch Newt saunter away. Newt glanced back over his shoulder once at Thomas, grinning impishly, then disappeared around a corner.  
  
Fuck. Thomas needed a minute to cool down.  
  
He went back to the kitchen to get another drink. Minho was there, and Thomas was so happy to see him that he hugged him.  
  
“You’re in a good mood,” Minho joked after they pulled apart.  
  
Thomas smiled. “It’s a great party,” he said.  
  
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’ve been flirting with a certain someone all night, would it?” Minho said shrewdly. “I saw you guys talking a few minutes ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh that much.”  
  
Thomas smiled even wider. The smile threatened to engulf his entire face.  
  
“Does this mean you’re finally getting over your dry spell?” Minho asked him with a teasing smile.  
  
“Shut up,” Thomas said, but he was still smiling.  
  
He decided to hang back a bit, wait for Newt to come to him. The night was still young, and Thomas was in no rush. He chatted with Minho a while in the kitchen; he didn’t see Newt for a while, but there were a lot of people coming and going between several different rooms, and he was probably sat in a corner somewhere, talking to someone.  
  
Thomas was walking up the stairs, looking for a bathroom. He rounded the landing, and there, down at the end of the corridor, was Newt.  
  
He wasn’t alone.  
  
The other, unknown boy was facing away from Thomas, and didn’t notice him arrive. He was otherwise preoccupied, on his knees in front of Newt.  
  
Thomas would have turned around and left immediately, but a flash of movement caught his eye, and--  
  
_Did he just. Fucking_ wave _at me?_  
  
His eyes jumped to Newt’s face, and Newt was looking directly at him. Daring him to stay and watch. His unwavering gaze held Thomas there, hypnotized.  
  
Newt sighed, breathing heavily, and bit his lip. His fingers knotted themselves in the other boy’s dark hair, and he rocked back and forth gently with the other boy’s motion. He opened his mouth and moaned softly.  
  
He didn’t break eye contact with Thomas the entire time. Not even a few seconds later, when he blew his load into the dark-haired boy’s mouth.  
  
So. It appeared Thomas was not getting fucked tonight after all.  
  
Thomas crept back down the stairs as quietly as he could before the other boy could stand up and notice him, and walked back to the kitchen in a daze.  
  
Minho was there again. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, seeing the look on Thomas’s face.  
  
“I’m fine,” Thomas said automatically. He forced a smile. “I just need more shots.”  
  
Minho, sensing Thomas didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him, turned and poured them both three shots of whiskey each.  
  
When Thomas had downed all three, he saw Minho looking at someone over his shoulder, and he turned to look.  
  
It was Newt.  
  
“Oh hey. I didn’t see you there,” Thomas said stupidly.  
  
“Then where did you see me?” Newt asked, his look full of the private joke.  
  
Thomas couldn’t think of anything clever to say, and he was still desperately waiting for those shots to kick in, and suddenly he was sick of Newt’s stupid, stupidly beautiful face. He turned back towards Minho, to get another drink, to get out of there, to do anything besides stand there gaping at Newt.  
  
Newt reached out, caught his elbow and turned Thomas back to face him, his exquisite brown eyes laughing. Completely ignoring Minho, who was watching the whole exchange in ever-increasing confusion, Newt leaned in to whisper in Thomas’s ear:  
  
“I guess now you know what my cumface looks like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the stuff about hyenas and bedbugs is all true, I looked it up. I had heard some of it before, because I have weird friends who like to talk about things like that, but I read up on it before writing this chapter just to make sure I didn't get any details wrong. So you're welcome.
> 
> Also the upstairs scene is loosely based on a scene from Kill Your Darlings (if you've seen that movie you'll probably recognize it).


	3. I just want to let you break my brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt has Thomas on hold and Thomas is so thirsty he doesn’t even care.

This could not seriously be happening. Again.  
  
Thomas watched Newt making out with another unknown boy, a different one than at the house party, of course. They were under a lamp post, leaned up against the brick wall that enclosed the park.  
  
Really, ‘making out’ seemed too tame to describe what they were doing. The other boy had one hand on Newt’s shoulder, pinning him to the wall as his mouth and tongue mauled Newt’s mouth, his chin, his jaw, his neck; his other hand roamed Newt’s torso, frantic and insistent. Both of Newt’s hands were on the other boy’s ass, pressing him firmly to his own body, his legs stood slightly farther apart to make space for the other boy. Newt’s hands were gently massaging the other boy’s ass, and as Thomas watched, one of Newt’s hands slipped lower, reaching around and underneath, stroking.  
  
Thomas couldn’t help it; he felt jealous. He wanted to be that other boy. He wanted Newt’s hands on him like that, groping and teasing and exploring.  
  
He looked up to see that Newt had seen Thomas watching him. Again. As the other boy sucked at Newt’s neck, Newt looked into Thomas’s eyes, and he looked so pleased Thomas wondered if he had somehow planned this. How could he have known Thomas would be in this exact spot at this exact time? Was Thomas really that predictable?  
  
The other boy’s hand lowered from Newt’s shoulder to the hem of his shirt, lifting enough to slide his hand down the front of Newt’s trousers, inch by inch, and the gleam in Newt’s eye turned diabolical. Newt started moaning loudly, and Thomas knew it was for his benefit, because Newt still hadn’t looked away.  
  
“You’re welcome to join us,” Newt called, making the other boy jump and turn around hastily. “Unless you prefer to watch.” Newt had smirking down to an art form. He angled his head forward, then tilted it to the side, eyebrows raised in invitation, wrinkling his forehead. Even through his embarrassment, that look made Thomas feel… indecent.  
  
“Who the fuck are you?” the other boy demanded, addressing Thomas.  
  
“He’s a friend,” Newt said calmly. “Don’t worry about it.” He paused, still looking at Thomas, and smiled playfully. “Were you enjoying the show?”  
  
“How long was he standing there before you said anything?”  
  
Thomas saw the amusement disappear from Newt’s face, replaced by annoyance.  
  
“Gally,” Newt said without taking his eyes off of Thomas, “go wait for me in the car.”  
  
“And how long am I supposed to just hang around while you flirt with some rando?” Gally protested.  
  
Newt cut his eyes at the other boy. “As long as I fucking feel like it,” he answered, irritated.  
  
“I don’t have to put up with this shit,” Gally huffed.  
  
Newt raised an eyebrow at him. “Then leave,” he stated calmly, calling Gally’s bluff. When the other boy didn’t say anything, he continued, “I’m sure Thomas here would take your place in a second.”  
  
Thomas didn’t disagree.  
  
The other boy grumbled and scowled, but he stomped off towards where Newt’s car was parked 50 yards away. Thomas heard him slam the door shut after getting in.  
  
Finally Newt turned back, and his attention was all on Thomas, looking him up and down with a wicked grin. But he didn’t say anything. So Thomas spoke first.  
  
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Thomas deadpanned.  
  
“Do we?” Newt answered slyly. “Because I kind of thought you were into it.” Thomas could tell he’d just been issued a challenge.  
  
He liked challenges.  
  
So he slunk closer to Newt, reaching his arm to slide casually around Newt’s waist, tugging him closer. “I’d be more into it if I knew when I was ever going to get my turn,” he said, trying to force his gaze to match the defiance in Newt’s.  
  
“Why don’t you take it right now?” Newt asked archly. “We’d be happy to have you with us.”  
  
Thomas wasn’t entirely certain if he was being serious. Besides, whatever Newt said, Thomas didn’t think Gally had looked in the mood to share.  
  
“It’s tempting,” Thomas said in a low voice, “but I think when I finally have you, I’m going to want you all to myself.”  
  
Newt’s eyes flashed with pleasure, and flicked down to rest on Thomas’s lips. He smirked slightly, then leaned in even closer, so that his face was a mere inch from Thomas’s, and what Newt said next made his chest heave and all thoughts flee his brain.  
  
“I think I could break you,” Newt whispered to Thomas. Thomas felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine.  
  
“I think I want you to try,” Thomas whispered back.  
  
Thomas felt a stirring between his legs, and the front of his jeans grew tight. Newt noticed, and he laughed, delighted and vicious, and then his hand was on the uncomfortable bulge, rubbing gently over Thomas’s jeans, reaching underneath to just graze his balls.  
  
Thomas’s chest felt tight from trying not to pant. He swallowed painfully, and his vision blurred at the edges as his eyes slid out of focus.  
  
And then Newt was backing away, eyes still locked onto Thomas’s and a small, evil smile on his face, until finally he turned around and strode back to where Gally was still sat waiting in the car. Thomas felt cold in his absence, and his dick ached with unspent tension.  
  
Well, shit.


	4. Tonight we are victorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas's thirst is finally ( _finally_ ) quenched.

If it had been anyone else, Thomas would have given up a long time ago. But this was Newt, and Newt was the most addictive drug Thomas had ever tried, so he was going to keep chasing the next hit and the next one; damn the fallout.  
  
The next time he saw Newt, they were on a night out with the same group. All through pre-drinks, the wait to get into the bar, the first half hour in the bar, Thomas kept his distance, unsure who should make the next move in the strange dance he and Newt were performing. But he couldn’t stop himself from looking over at Newt about every thirty seconds. His only consolation was that he caught Newt looking at him almost as often as he was looking at Newt.  
  
It was one of those places that usually had live music, but tonight it didn’t. Thomas hated it. It was too loud to have any kind of decent conversation, and the music was shit, so you couldn’t even dance. And the drinks were overpriced and shit as well, so he couldn’t even enjoy getting drunk.  
  
Finally, around midnight, Thomas found himself next to Newt. Most of the others in their group had drifted off, either to get more vodka-based drinks or to find a relatively un-crowded pocket to squeeze into and bob their heads up and down in a poor attempt to dance to the shit music.  
  
“Are you having fun?” Thomas said, his voice straining. The music was so loud he had to shout to be heard.  
  
Newt leaned in to answer. “Not really,” he half shouted. “I don’t usually go for places like this.”  
  
“What made you come out tonight?” Thomas shouted back.  
  
Newt looked at him, smiling slowly. Then he leaned in, all the way in, until his lips brushed Thomas’s ear, and in a normal speaking volume he said, “I knew you would be here.”  
  
Newt pulled back, watching to see how Thomas would react. Thomas stared at Newt, frozen. His breath hitched in his throat.  
  
And then he was grabbing Newt roughly by the lapels of his leather jacket and Newt was crashing in to meet him, and they were kissing, and _fuck he was actually kissing Newt_ , and Newt was sliding his fingers under the hem of Thomas’s shirt to find skin, and Thomas hadn’t been touched like this in so damn long and it was Newt who was touching him like this and god, Newt was _so fucking hot_ Thomas could barely believe this was happening.  
  
They broke apart, breathing heavily. Thomas could feel the bass thumping through the floor, vibrating his whole body. Was this really happening? He reached out and gently stroked Newt’s cheek just to make sure that he was real.  
  
He was.  
  
Newt leaned in again, and this time he kissed Thomas more slowly, but just as intensely. Newt’s mouth left Thomas’s and he worked his way up Thomas’s jawline to his neck, up to the spot just under his ear, and Thomas couldn’t stop himself from gasping quietly. Newt probably hadn’t heard, it was so loud in here; but then again maybe he had, because he paused, and with his lower lip nudging Thomas’s earlobe, he said softly in Thomas’s ear, “Do you want to get out of here?”  
  
Newt left his face there, cheek to cheek with Thomas, so Thomas spoke directly into Newt’s ear. “I really do.”  
  
In the cab, Newt gave the driver his address, then sat back, leaning his shoulder against Thomas. He rested his hand on Thomas’s thigh, and as his eyes gazed into Thomas’s, his hand slowly crept higher and higher.  
  
Thomas had forgotten how to breath.  
  
The anticipation was killing Thomas by inches. The back of the cab gave them the illusion of privacy, but there was still the driver. Thomas wondered how far Newt would dare go right here, if the driver might actually kick them out.  
  
When Newt’s hand reached his groin, Thomas fought to keep his breathing steady. He moved his leg to the side, almost imperceptibly, leaving more space for Newt’s hand, and Newt’s smile grew delighted.  
  
Newt reached two fingers underneath, stroking slowly and deliberately through Thomas’s jeans, and Thomas couldn’t help but imagine how much better it would feel without clothing in the way.  
  
As if he’d read Thomas’s mind, Newt’s hand trailed up, up to the top of his jeans, and with only a glance at the driver who seemed completely oblivious, slid his hand inside and down. His fingers burned Thomas’s skin where they touched, and Thomas leaned back so Newt could reach even farther inside. He couldn’t get a proper grip from inside Thomas’s jeans, but his fingers could reach and stroke and caress. Thomas’s hands balled into fists as he tried to maintain his composure. Newt’s eyes were on him all the time, and the more uncomfortable Thomas got, the more Newt seemed to enjoy it.  
  
When they finally arrived at Newt’s, Thomas nearly fell on his face in his hurry to get out of the cab. Newt paid the driver, then tumbled out after him. They stumbled through the gate and up the steps, pausing at the door. Newt pushed Thomas up against the door and kissed him aggressively, his tongue all the way in Thomas’s mouth, pushing and probing, his lower lip nibbling at Thomas’s. Then Newt abruptly pulled back, eyes glinting, and turned to unlock the door.  
  
They fell through the doorway, and as soon as Newt had closed and locked the door behind them he was attacking Thomas again, pushing him against the wall, holding both Thomas’s wrists in his hands and pinning them down by his sides against the wall. Newt’s kisses were hungry and insistent, but never impatient. Thomas pushed his wrists lightly against the restraint, wanting to touch Newt, to feel him under his hands, but Newt held them fast against the wall as his lips moved to Thomas’s neck. Thomas leaned his head back against the wall and sighed, and he felt Newt’s mouth curl into a smile against his skin.  
  
Then Newt’s hands were moving from his wrists to his hips, lifting his shirt and sliding up across his stomach, over his ribs. One hand slipped back down to play with the top edge of Thomas’s jeans, moving over his belt buckle, sliding a finger into a belt loop, but he didn’t reach down inside even though every nerve in Thomas’s body was screaming for him to do so.  
  
Newt was toying with him.  
  
Thomas knew that whatever Newt did, he would go along with it. He wanted Newt so bad, much more than Newt wanted him, and they both knew it. Thomas knew this, whatever this was between them, was unhealthy, but he reveled in the wrongness of it. Fuck healthy relationships; Thomas wanted Newt to ruin him.  
  
And Thomas decided to tell him so. He took advantage of the new freedom of his wrists to move his hands up to hold Newt’s face, lifting it so he could look into Newt’s eyes.Their breath mingled as Thomas whispered to Newt.  
  
“I want you to ruin me.”  
  
Newt didn’t say anything, but his eyes sparked and the edges of his mouth curled up. He took Thomas by the hand and led him upstairs to his bedroom.  
  
This was it. Thomas was finally in Newt’s bedroom. And this was really happening.  
  
Thomas waited, looking at Newt to see what he would do. Newt tilted his head, considering Thomas. Then he put his hands on Thomas’s shoulders and pushed down, and Thomas’s knees buckled and he sank down onto them, and Thomas knew where Newt was going with this. He reached up and unbuckled Newt’s belt, undid the button and zipper of his jeans, pulled the front of Newt’s boxers down.  
  
God, he’d missed the feeling of a good dick in his mouth.  
  
Thomas moved with enthusiasm, licking and sucking and rubbing his lips, delicate but sure. Mouth still occupied, with his hands he pulled Newt’s jeans and boxers down around his knees, then massaged his thighs, his ass. With one hand he reached under to fondle Newt’s balls, then reached past to grind the spot between them and his asshole.  
  
Thomas had always prided himself on his blow jobs, but he knew Newt had probably experienced the best, so he pulled out every trick he knew. Judging by the noises Newt was making above him, and by how tightly his fingers were curling in Thomas’s hair, he wasn’t unaffected.  
  
Eventually Newt stepped back, pulling Thomas to his feet, and then they were both kicking off their shoes, and Newt was stepping out of his jeans while Thomas was pulling his shirt over his head. Thomas went to work unbuttoning Newt’s shirt; each button revealed more of Newt’s lean, toned chest, and Thomas wanted to explore it with his mouth and tongue. With a practiced hand, Newt unbuckled Thomas’s belt, using the undone ends to tug him closer, and their bare chests pressed together as Thomas’s arms slid around to Newt’s back, feeling the muscles there. It felt so nice that Thomas yearned to feel Newt on every part of him, and he let Newt finish removing his jeans so they could press against each other, completely naked, eager hands roaming, mouths locked together. Thomas felt Newt’s semi tap him in the inner thigh as it twitched. His own cock was almost as hard, and Newt took it in his hand, pumping a few times.  
  
Thomas was all hands, touching Newt’s neck, his face, his hair, his back, his ass, his chest, his stomach, his ribs. Newt was so lean, Thomas could savor every perfect, firm muscle, and his hair was just as soft as it looked. He couldn’t stop marveling at how wonderful it felt to be touching Newt skin to skin. Thomas was touch-starved, and Newt was a feast.  
  
Newt took Thomas over to the bed, pushed him down onto it. As he leaned over Thomas, smirking, he murmured, “What do you want, Tommy?”  
  
“I want you to ruin me,” Thomas repeated softly.  
  
Newt certainly tried.  
  
Thomas wasn’t normally this loud, but Newt really knew what he was doing, and unbidden, Thomas moaned in time with the knocking of the headboard against the wall. And when Newt hit a spot inside him that sent a sharp pulse of pleasure racing through his body, Thomas cried out so loudly it made Newt laugh, and then Newt was hitting the same spot again and again, and Thomas’s hands were grasping at Newt, fingers clawing desperately into his back, his neck, his shoulders, as Thomas arched his back into the bed in an agony of bliss.  
  
When they were both spent, lying in bed, legs entangled, lazily stroking up and down each other’s arms, Thomas thought that soon he would have to get up, gather his clothes from where they’d been left in a heap on the floor, put them back on, and leave. But for now, he continued to bask in Newt’s glow, tired but satisfied.  
  
“So…” Newt said. “Do you want to do this again sometime?”  
  
“Is that a real question?” Thomas asked incredulously. “I would _love_ to do this again. I didn’t think you did repeats, though.” A teasing note had crept into his voice.  
  
Newt looked at Thomas, a small smile playing across his lips. “I do when they suck my dick that good.”


	5. The good, the bad and the dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas is most definitely not catching feelings.

It was early morning, and Thomas was stark naked again, up on Newt’s desk, legs pushed up and feet braced on the edge. And Newt was fucking him.  
  
Thomas closed his eyes and leaned back, reaching a hand out to brace himself against the wall. He could feel Newt’s computer monitor digging into his back, and as Newt rocked him back and forth, Thomas worried they would knock it right off the desk. They’d already shaken loose several smaller items, sending them clattering to the floor, but Newt kept going, undeterred.  
  
Thomas moved his legs to wrap them around Newt’s waist, holding himself more securely to the other boy. With his body stretched back like this, Newt pounding into him, he felt… glorious. Magnificent. Exquisite. And then Newt wrapped a hand around his cock and started moving it up and down, and Thomas’s entire body undulated, waves of pleasure coursing through him.  
  
He knew Newt’s housemates were home, so he couldn’t be too loud, but Newt was really testing his self-control. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from panting with every exhale, breath catching in his throat, trying to keep the moans he desperately wanted to let out instead locked inside.  
  
They’d been fucking every few days for four weeks now, and this wasn’t the first time Thomas had stayed the night so they could get a quick screw in the morning before Thomas went to his 8am lecture, but this was the first time they’d done it on the desk. Thomas hoped it wouldn’t be the last.  
  
Thomas tipped his head forward again so he could look at Newt. Newt, flushed and mobile, looked like a dream. And he was looking back at Thomas, smiling.  
  
The thing about Thomas was that he was a romantic at heart. He couldn’t help it. And he found himself falling back onto those romantic habits with Newt, no matter how many times he told himself it was just casual sex. That Newt was just using him for a good lay, just like he was using Newt to get over his ex. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and they both understood the terms: just sex ( _great_ sex, _fantastic_ sex), no strings attached.  
  
So what if Newt had suggested he leave a toothbrush and a bottle of contact solution at his place? That was just for convenience, so Thomas could stay the night and they could fuck in the morning. So what if after they fucked, they usually ended up cuddling and kissing in bed for hours? And so what if when Thomas stayed the night, he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Newt? They just did it because it felt nice. It didn’t mean anything.  
  
They were decidedly not in a relationship. It didn’t matter that Thomas had started bringing his coursework to Newt’s in the afternoon some days and they spent hours working and studying in silence together (that was just because Newt lived so much closer to campus than Thomas, and it saved Thomas the trip when they were done with work and ready to fuck). It didn’t matter that in the evenings they watched _Parks and Recreation_ and made out between episodes (it wasn’t like they could have sex every hour of every day, they needed something to space it out; and besides, Thomas couldn’t believe that Newt had never seen his favourite show, and he needed Newt to see it so Newt would understand when he made references to it, although they had been forced to watch the Possum episode twice because Newt had been too busy doing things to Thomas’s body to pay attention the first time). It definitely didn’t matter that Newt had introduced Thomas to his housemates (it would have been awkward otherwise, Thomas was there so often he was bound to run into them sooner or later). And it certainly didn’t matter that Newt didn’t seem to be seeing other guys anymore (Thomas wasn’t actually sure about that, they had never discussed it; but if he was, Thomas didn’t know when he could possibly have time for it with how often he was fucking Thomas lately).  
  
None of it mattered. Because they weren’t in a relationship, and Newt didn’t like him that way. So Thomas definitely shouldn’t be holding Newt’s hand and resting his head on Newt’s shoulder when they watched TV. He shouldn’t be wrapping Newt in surprise hugs from behind, nuzzling into his neck and showering him with sweet cheek kisses. And he really shouldn’t be feeling a thrill of pure joy when he saw Newt laugh, and doubly so if it was Thomas who had made him laugh. But it was just force of habit, a romantic habit that was deeply ingrained in Thomas. And the fact that Newt let him do those things, possibly even enjoyed them, was completely irrelevant.  
  
Was Thomas falling for Newt? Absolutely, definitely, unequivocally _not_.  
  
They had finished their bout of desk-sex, and were lying in bed again. Newt had one of his legs resting between both of Thomas’s, and his arm was under Thomas’s neck. With one hand, Thomas was lazily stroking Newt’s neck and shoulder and cheek, trailing fingers slowly brushing up and down. His hand stopped to cup Newt’s face, thumb tracing small circles in his cheek.  
  
“I should really get up,” Thomas sighed.  
  
“No, you shouldn’t,” Newt answered quietly, smiling.  
  
“I have a lecture to go to, remember?”  
  
Newt pouted.  
  
Thomas groaned, closing his eyes. He was powerless. Newt was too beautiful to disappoint. But he really did need to go to that lecture. So, keeping his eyes closed, he rolled away from Newt and out of bed. He didn’t open his eyes until he was facing away from Newt and couldn’t be persuaded by Newt’s face anymore.  
  
He started to gather up his clothes, pulling on boxers and a t-shirt. But his jeans were lying near the edge of the bed, and when he went to get them, Newt’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.  
  
“Boo, clothes,” Newt said, still pouting. “Come back to bed with me.”  
  
Thomas checked the time. “I can stay a few more minutes,” he relented. “But then I really have to go.” He lay down over the duvet, on top of Newt, legs on either side of him, and Newt grinned in triumph, and Thomas thought he looked so luscious he just had to kiss him. The kiss was slow and passionate, and as his lips moved with Newt’s, Thomas thought how stupid it was that he wasn’t touching more of Newt’s body, so he crawled back under the duvet with him. The kissing continued, and escalated, and Thomas was lying on top of Newt along his naked body and sliding one hand along Newt’s side down to his hip, and then soon Thomas was shedding the t-shirt and boxers he had so recently put on.  
  
He didn’t make his 8am lecture.  
  
Afterward, they went out into the garden for a smoke. Newt lit up one of his hand-rolled cigarettes, took a drag, then wordlessly offered it to Thomas. Thomas took a long drag, then passed the cigarette back to Newt, who took it and said, “Sorry I made you miss your lecture, Tommy.”  
  
“No you’re not,” Thomas answered ruefully. Newt’s evil smirk told him he was right.  
  
“Well, you’re welcome to stay here for a while. I don’t have anything until 10:30. I’m sure we could find something to do until then.” Newt’s voice was playful, and his smile made Thomas think immoral thoughts. God, everything about Newt made him feel immoral.  
  
Thomas leaned sideways to kiss Newt, and he could taste the tobacco and ash on his lips. The taste of him was intoxicating. Thomas still marveled that he could do this, he could just kiss Newt whenever he wanted.  
  
“Do you want to get together on Friday?” Thomas asked. “A bunch of my friends are doing a pub crawl, I thought maybe we could go with them for a while, and then come back here.”  
  
“I can’t,” Newt said, taking another drag on the cigarette. “I’m going home this weekend, I have to babysit my sister.”  
  
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Thomas said.  
  
Newt smiled, but this smile was completely different from Newt’s usual smiles ( _when had he started cataloguing Newt’s various smiles?_ ); this one was sweet and almost shy, and completely lacking any mockery. “Her name’s Sonya,” he said. “She’s only 10, and I love her more than anything in the world.” He reached into his pocket, taking out his phone. “Here, I have pictures.”  
  
He brought up his photo library and flipped through, showing Thomas pictures of a small blond girl. She had a sweet, smiling face. Thomas could just see the resemblance between them. In some of the pictures, Newt was with her, hugging her, kissing her cheek, holding her hand as she went down a slide at a park. Thomas found himself smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and he bit his lip, trying to suppress the smile. Newt just looked so goddamn cute. It was a whole new side of him that Thomas hadn’t seen before.  
  
“She’s actually my half sister,” Newt explained. “My parents divorced and my dad remarried; she’s my dad and stepmum’s. But I took care of her a lot when she was little. For a while we were practically inseparable.”  
  
“I have a sister too,” Thomas said. “Teresa. But she’s a year older than me. We weren’t always that close; we used to fight all the time, like any siblings I guess, but then… well, we had kind of a falling out when I was in 9th grade, my freshman year of high school. But eventually we got past it, and the last few years of high school we actually got pretty close. She had her driver’s license and I didn’t, so she used to drive me everywhere.”  
  
“What happened when you were in 9th grade?”  
  
Thomas hesitated. “It’s… kind of a long story.”  
  
Newt passed him the cigarette, watching Thomas closely with his thoughtful brown eyes as Thomas inhaled through the cigarette. “You can tell me about it, you know,” he said quietly. “If you want to.”  
  
Thomas took another puff on the cigarette, thinking. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, he decided. He could tell Newt what had happened.  
  
“My parents are really religious,” he began, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “And when I was in 9th grade, they found out I was gay. I hadn’t planned on coming out to them at all, but they found my tumblr account, which was… pretty much my entire outlet for everything gay. I wasn’t careful enough about deleting my browser history,” he laughed without humour. “Anyway, it was this whole big thing. And then a few weeks later, I got caught at school with another boy. Things got… pretty bad for a while,” he admitted. “They punished me, a lot. And they forced me to go to a church therapist to try and turn me straight.” He took a deep breath. This had all happened years ago, and he was over it. It didn’t matter anymore. “Anyway, the reason Teresa and I had a falling out was because she sided with them over me. I thought she was on my side, but I guess she believed all that stuff about people like me going to hell.” His eyes stinging, Thomas took another drag. “After things calmed down a little, mostly because I was forced deep back into the closet, that’s when we started getting closer. She never said anything, but I think she felt bad about basically betraying me. She knew I was secretly still gay, and she never told our parents. She even covered for me a few times when I lied to them about where I was because I was meeting guys. And when I told her about A--about my last boyfriend, she said she was happy for me.” Thomas exhaled, passing the nearly-defunct cigarette back to Newt. “As far as I know, my parents are still pretty much in denial. We kind of have a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy. And you might’ve noticed I got about as far away from them as I could for university,” Thomas tried to joke, but his voice shook slightly.  
  
“I did wonder why you came all the way over here for university,” Newt said.  
  
“Yeah, well, things kind of went to shit again when Teresa left for college and I was left by myself with them. She was always the responsible one, so when we were together we could get away with a lot, but when it was just me they never trusted me, and I got caught in a lie several times. And my parents believe in corporal punishment.” Thomas took a deep, shaky breath. “I just wanted to get as far away from them as possible. So I went to another continent,” Thomas laughed. “We’re better now. I don’t hate them anymore. I mean, they’re my parents, so I have to love them, I guess. But I always felt like they let me down.”  
  
“They did,” Newt said simply. He was looking at Thomas, not with pity but with sympathy, and he reached a hand up to rub Thomas on the back. “It’s not fair that you had to go through that, Tommy,” he continued. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”  
  
Thomas shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he said.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault, either.”  
  
Thomas just looked down and didn’t answer. Newt stubbed what was left of the cigarette out, then said, “Well, nothing as dramatic as that happened to me. I never even officially came out to my dad and stepmum, I suppose they just figured it out when I introduced them to my first boyfriend.” Newt smiled, and looking into his face, Thomas found it easy to return the smile.  
  
“I can just imagine you as a rebellious teenager,” Thomas teased him.  
  
“Jesus, I was bloody awful,” Newt said, smiling wryly. “I was so smug and obnoxious.”  
  
“And how is that different from--” Thomas started, but Newt shoved his shoulder before he could finish. They laughed together.  
  
Later, when they were back upstairs in Newt’s bedroom, making out and lifting each other’s shirts off, Thomas thought he sensed a gentleness in the way Newt touched him that hadn’t been there before. But then again, it might have been his imagination.  
  
It was a few weeks later, and Thomas had finally managed to convince Newt to come out for the night, even though Newt normally never went clubbing. They were at Thomas’s favourite place. They played different genres of music for different nights of the week, and Friday night was emo and punk/alternative rock, and Sober Thomas definitely wasn’t emo but Drunk Thomas sang along to My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco at the top of his voice and knew every word.  
  
Thomas was having the time of his life. He was very drunk, and Newt was there with him, and even if Newt wasn’t having quite as good a time as he was, he definitely seemed to be enjoying himself. Thomas forced Newt to dance with him, or at least Thomas’s version of dancing, which was mainly jumping up and down and thrashing in time to the music. Neither of them were very good dancers, but it didn’t matter because they were drunk and the music was good and loud and they were together.  
  
Every time Thomas got overwhelmed with emotions because of the music or because he was looking at Newt and Newt just looked _so fucking hot_ , he would put his arms around Newt’s neck and draw him in, resting their foreheads together and staring deeply into Newt’s eyes. Newt, who was drunk but obviously not nearly as drunk as Thomas, smiled like he found Thomas pleasantly entertaining.  
  
With his hands holding Newt’s face, Thomas pulled him in for a kiss. They ignored everyone around them, lost in each other, the music pounding so they could feel the vibrations in their bones. Thomas sucked on Newt’s lower lip, biting gently with his teeth. Newt responded enthusiastically, and the kiss got rougher and more impatient. Thomas ran his tongue lightly along Newt’s lips, then pushed it in, firm and deep, before flicking up and out again. He rubbed his lips past Newt’s, allowing his bottom lip to catch and drag until Newt caught it, sucking and biting. Thomas didn’t think about anything except how Newt’s mouth felt on his, how Newt’s hands felt sliding down the back of his jeans and roughly groping his ass, pulling his asscheeks apart ever so slightly as he rubbed in a circular motion, his fingers getting closer and closer to Thomas’s asshole with every revolution.  
  
He didn’t know if they’d been locked together like this for a few minutes or a few hours, but suddenly Newt was stepping back, grabbing his hand and pulling him across the dance floor towards the bathrooms.  
  
They crashed through the door, and Newt pushed Thomas ahead of him into the first open stall they saw, swinging the door shut behind them and turning the latch. Then he was all over Thomas, pushing him against the thin stall partition which shook slightly as Thomas was slammed up against it, Newt’s hands on his stomach, sliding up his shirt to feel his chest, flicking his nipples. Newt leaned his weight on Thomas, grinding his hips against him, and the partition shook again with the force of it, and Thomas could feel the front of his jeans getting uncomfortably tight. All Thomas could do was hold on to the collar of Newt’s leather jacket for dear life, desperately returning Newt’s vigorous kisses.  
  
Then Newt’s hands were at his belt buckle, undoing it with quick and sure movements. He pulled Thomas’s jeans and boxers all the way down to his ankles, then stood back up and he was leaning against Thomas again, kissing and sucking and biting his neck, while his hands were busy down below. Thomas gasped from the suddenness of the pleasure he felt. Newt was working him over, his hands attending to every part of Thomas, and Thomas was far too drunk to even try to suppress the sounds Newt was eliciting from him.  
  
Someone banged on the stall door, and Thomas could hear shouting from the other side, but when he turned towards the door, Newt seized his face, turning Thomas back to face him.  
  
“Don’t worry about them,” Newt murmured. He leaned in to whisper in Thomas’s ear. “They’re just jealous.” Then he turned Thomas around, pushing him up against the wall from behind, and his fingers went back to their task below. Thomas could feel the cold, smooth surface of the partition against his palms, his cheek, his thighs, his hardening dick. It contrasted strongly with Newt’s warm hands on his asscheeks, his back, his balls, his asshole, circling and rubbing and grinding. Then Newt was stepping back, undoing his own belt.  
  
_Is he really going to--here in the bathroom?_  
  
“Do you have--” Thomas panted, but Newt was already pulling a small packet of lube and a condom out of his pocket. Thomas could see the words _Sexual Health Clinic_ written on the side of the lube packet.  
  
When he was ready, Newt sat on the toilet, and Thomas eased down onto him, his back pressed to Newt’s chest, the tops of Newt’s thighs warm against the backs of his own. Then they moved together, grinding and bouncing and moaning.  
  
Thomas would never have done this sober, but right now he didn’t care about anything except how incredible it felt to be riding Newt’s dick, and how Newt’s body felt pressed against his back. If he leaned back and twisted his neck, he could just manage to kiss Newt, the side of his mouth making contact, his tongue desperately delving into Newt’s mouth. He brought his arm up, turning his shoulder into Newt’s chest, putting his hand around the back of Newt’s neck and pulling him forward so he could reach his mouth easier. Thomas’s fingers found Newt’s hair, and his hand slid from the back of Newt’s neck up to the top of his head, where he entwined his fingers in Newt’s hair and tugged. Newt’s head jerked forward, and he bit back a surprised, choked laugh.  
  
“Fuck, Tommy,” he muttered against Thomas’s lips. One of Newt’s hands rubbed across his stomach, up to the middle of his chest, and it felt so good, almost as good as his other hand wrapped around Thomas’s dick, slowly pumping. In answer, Thomas just kissed him again, pushing his tongue as deep as it would go into Newt’s mouth, lips fiercely moving against Newt’s, groping, sucking, taking. He knew he was being sloppy; these were not the kind of kisses you saw in movies, but Thomas was completely in the thrall of the overpowering sensations Newt was evoking in him, and his only thought was to be as immersed in pleasure as possible.  
  
When they were finished, and had cleaned up as much as was possible for a public restroom, they stumbled back out onto the dance floor, and Thomas smiled at Newt.  
  
“That was fucking incredible.”  
  
Newt leaned in to rest his forehead against Thomas’s. “I’m really glad you convinced me to come out tonight, Tommy.”


	6. Spiritual revolt from the waist down, I'm just a full tank away from freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas is treated to some motorcycle sex.

Newt’s abs were Thomas’s new religion. He worshiped them. Newt had basically 0% body fat, so he had washboard abs with almost no effort. Thomas loved how they felt beneath his hands, the smooth, firm bumps curving, pulsing under his wandering fingers. He loved how they felt on his lips, his tongue.  
  
He could spend hours exploring Newt’s entire torso with his mouth. His jutting collarbone, the hollow of his throat, his small but well-defined pecs and the bony bit of sternum between them. His nipples (Thomas wanted to stay an eternity sucking them, biting them, flicking them with his tongue). His ribs, especially the floating ribs and the soft hollow of his stomach between them (Thomas loved kissing him there and watching his stomach concave in response). And further down, the sumptuous abs. And even further down, the faint v just above his groin that pointed almost directly to his cock. His hips (Thomas liked to bite the corner of his hips). The corner of his shoulders where the bones jutted out, and just beneath them the swell of his biceps. Really, every part of Newt was magnificent. When he tilted his head back or to the side, the line of his jaw made Thomas go fuzzy-headed. His hair; Thomas couldn’t stop running his fingers through his soft blond hair and admiring the texture of it. His smile made Thomas feel like a hurricane was trapped in his chest. Thomas would murder someone if it would make Newt smile. And his eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes, when they were aimed at Thomas somehow paralyzed him and set his heart into furious motion, all at once.  
  
Newt was straddling Thomas, riding his dick, mouth open and moaning. Every time he rolled his hips, taking Thomas deeper inside him and then rising slightly off of him over and over, his silky hair flopped into his eyes. One of his hands was pressed into Thomas’s stomach for balance, the other was wrapped around his own cock, stroking. Thomas’s hands were on Newt’s hips, stabilising him and allowing Thomas direct access to the lower part of Newt’s abs. Thomas squeezed, grinding his thumbs into Newt’s muscles, and he heard Newt groan above him. Euphoria washed over Thomas; with Newt riding him like this, looking so sensuous and perfect, this was the happiest he could remember feeling in a long time.  
  
Later, Thomas lay with Newt curled into his chest, his arms wrapped around Newt’s shoulders, Newt’s head tucked under his chin.Thomas thought he wouldn’t mind if he died right now, he was so perfectly content.  
  
“Hey, Tommy?” Newt said, tilting his head back to look up at Thomas.  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
“I know we’ve never really talked about… being exclusive,” Newt said, taking a deep breath. “But I’m not seeing anyone else.”  
  
Thomas felt his heart stutter. “I’m not seeing anyone else, either,” he said quickly.  
  
Newt smiled softly. “Ok. Good. Well I was thinking… if we’re both not seeing anyone else anyway… maybe we could agree to be exclusive. And we could both get STI tested, and if we’re both clean, then we don’t have to use condoms anymore.”  
  
“Yeah,” Thomas said, trying not to show how excited the idea made him. “I’d be fine with that. I haven’t been tested in a while anyway, probably good to get it done.”  
  
“I actually went yesterday,” Newt said, turning his head back into Thomas’s chest, nestling into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. “I’ll let you know when I get the results, it should be in a few days.”  
  
“Ok,” Thomas answered. He wondered if Newt could feel his heart pounding.  
  
They were exclusive. Officially.  
  
Thomas tried not to let himself get carried away. It didn’t necessarily mean anything other than that Newt really liked having sex with him, and that he was tired of using condoms. Nothing had really changed. But he couldn’t stop the tiny bubble of hope growing in his chest.  
  
Seven days later, Thomas got a call from the doctor he’d seen at the Sexual Health clinic. As soon as he got off the phone with the doctor, Thomas called Newt. He answered on the second ring.  
  
“Hi, Tommy.” His voice was cheerful, and Thomas imagined him leaning casually against a wall, grinning.  
  
“I got my results back,” Thomas told him. “All negative.”  
  
“Good.” Thomas thought he could hear barely a trace of a laugh. Just as he’d said, Newt had told Thomas when he got his results a few days ago. And they were both clean.  
  
“So…” Thomas trailed off, and the silence stretched between them. Newt waited patiently for Thomas to continue. “How soon can I come over?” he finally got out.  
  
This time Thomas was sure he heard a small huff of a laugh on the other end, and he imagined Newt smiling wide and running a hand through his hair as he considered.  
  
“Would half an hour be too soon?”  
  
Thomas felt his mouth curve up joyfully. “Half an hour would be perfect,” he said.  
  
When Thomas arrived at Newt’s, he found him outside, around the side of the house in the shed where he kept his motorcycle. Newt had been tinkering; his hands had smudges of grease on them, and when he wiped sweat off his temple, he left a streak of grease behind. Thomas found it unbearably sexy.  
  
“When are you going to take me out on this?” Thomas asked, gesturing to Newt’s motorcycle.  
  
“You want to _go for a ride_ on my motorbike?” Newt said, his mouth twisting into a smirk, his tone laced with double meaning.  
  
“I--” Thomas cut off, his throat going dry and his cheeks burning.  
  
Newt pressed his lips together, eyes dancing. “That can be arranged,” he said.  
  
Thomas felt like he was flying. He was perched on the back of Newt’s motorcycle, holding Newt around the middle. Newt turned the bike around a corner, and they leaned together, Thomas gripping Newt just a little tighter (for safety, of course). Thomas relished the feeling of speeding along, just riding the edge of danger as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He vowed to get his motorcycle license as soon as he could. Newt shifted up a gear, then eased back onto the throttle, and the bike shot forward even faster. Thomas felt wonderfully alive, his senses alert and every nerve firing.  
  
The vibration of the motor and his proximity to Newt were doing things to him. Specifically, to his dick. He wondered if Newt could feel it. Then he wondered if maybe he wanted him to.  
  
Thomas shifted his hips slightly so his groin was pressed right up against the small of Newt’s back. He clung to Newt even tighter, laying his head on the back of Newt’s shoulder, nestling into him.  
  
When they stopped at the next light, Newt turned to look back at him with an amused smile. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, Tommy,” he shouted over the roar of the engine. In answer, Thomas pushed his hips in the smallest grinding motion, just enough that Newt knew exactly what he was doing, and with his upper body writhed almost imperceptibly against Newt’s back  
  
The light turned, and Newt sped off again. Soon he was turning down a street lined with shops, and pulling into one of the parking spaces nearby.  
  
“What are we doing here?” Thomas asked as Newt turned the motor off. Newt didn’t answer, just looked at him with one eyebrow raised.  
  
Newt led him into the nearest drugstore. Without hesitating, he strode over to the aisle with all the sexual paraphernalia, grabbed a bottle each of five different kinds of lube, then strode up to the checkout. Without a trace of embarrassment, he dumped the lube on the counter, looked the checkout lady dead in the eye, and said, “We have a big night planned.”  
  
Thomas wished the floor would swallow him.  
  
Fortunately the checkout lady was a professional, and didn’t bat an eyelid. She rang them up, and Newt paid. He passed the bag full of lube to Thomas, saying blithely, “You can take care of this, right Tommy?”  
  
As they turned to leave, the checkout lady called after them, “Have fun!”  
  
On the way back to Newt’s, Thomas felt tense with anticipation. The bag full of lube was in his lap, pressed between them. When they arrived, Newt pushed the motorcycle back into the shed, then turned to look at Thomas. Thomas expected him to leave the shed and head into the house, but instead he beckoned Thomas inside the shed. Thomas entered, bemused, and Newt shut the door behind him. Grabbing Thomas by the wrists, Newt pulled him close and kissed him on the neck.  
  
“I thought you wanted to go for a ride,” he whispered into Thomas’s ear. His hand, which still had smudges of grease on it, went to cup Thomas’s cheek, and Thomas wondered if it had left smudges of grease on his face. God, he hoped so.  
  
“Take me for a ride,” Thomas whispered back, and then his mouth fell on Newt’s. Thomas slid his hands up Newt’s shirt, skimming along his skin, around to his back, holding him closer. The bag from the drugstore was still on his arm, and it dangled and bumped against the back of Newt’s legs. Both Newt’s hands were clutching Thomas’s face as he kissed him fiercely. They stumbled back against the motorbike, and Thomas leaned back against it, Newt advancing on him, pressing his back into the seat.  
  
Newt stepped back, taking the drugstore bag off of Thomas’s arm and setting it on the floor. Then he pulled Thomas in again, one hand on the back of his neck, one around his waist, and kissed him, even rougher this time, biting and sucking. The hand on Thomas’s waist dropped down to grope his ass, and Thomas inhaled sharply. Newt broke off the kiss, bending down to grab one of the lube bottles, breaking the plastic seal and popping the lid off. Newt turned back to Thomas, and the look in his eyes was so intense Thomas could already feel a tingling in his groin.  
  
Newt kissed him once, slowly, while his free hand unbuckled Thomas’s belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Then he spun Thomas around and pushed him down roughly by the back of the neck, bending him over the motorcycle. Thomas’s face was pressed against the seat, the leather smooth against his cheek. One arm was flung over the fuel tank, the other pinned beneath him.  
  
With the hand on Thomas’s neck still holding him down, pushing his face harshly into the motorcycle seat, Newt used his other hand to yank Thomas’s jeans down, exposing his ass and thighs to the cold air. The hand left Thomas’s neck, and he lifted his head just enough to see Newt squirting some lube onto his hand, and then he felt that hand slathering lube around his asshole, one finger pushing inside, urgent and forceful, but not ungentle. The hand retreated, then returned with even more lube, this time inserting two fingers. Thomas squirmed and contorted against the seat of the motorbike, arching his back. He panted softly, and the breaths caught in his throat, becoming vocalisations. Newt dropped the lube bottle; Thomas heard it clatter to the floor, and then he felt Newt’s other hand press into his back, pinning him down once again.  
  
Thomas could see himself and Newt in the bike’s side mirrors, and the sight of them like that, himself bent over and Newt behind him, made his dick swell and harden again. If he bent his knees slightly and rocked his hips forward, he could get it to rub lightly against the engine, which was still warm from their ride but not uncomfortably hot. Thomas gasped and moaned, his body rolling with the rhythm Newt set with his fingers.  
  
“Please,” Thomas panted. “Newt, I need--I need you to fuck me.”  
  
Newt leaned over Thomas, kissing him tenderly on the back of the neck before murmuring in his ear. “Of course, Tommy. Anything you want.” Then Thomas could hear him unbuckling his belt, unzipping his trousers and pulling them down. Newt must have retrieved the fallen lube bottle, because Thomas heard him squirting more out of it, and then Newt’s slick, hard cock was pushing against his hole and slowly, deliberately sliding in, and Thomas’s knees were shaking, and he could hear the sounds he was making but he wasn’t aware of making them, as Newt fucked him against the motorcycle. One of Newt’s hands returned to Thomas’s back, keeping him pinned, and the other reached up to tangle in Thomas’s hair, tugging backward.  
  
Thomas didn’t think he had ever been fucked this good in his life. And Newt made sure to drag it out as long as possible before they both finally finished and collapsed against the motorcycle, breathing heavily.  
  
Thomas was finally able to stand up, and his legs were shaking. He turned to face Newt, clinging to his shoulders, and gave him a lingering kiss. “That was a hell of a ride,” he said quietly, and Newt’s face split into a pleased grin.  
  
They spent the rest of the night trying out the various types of lube.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motorcycle smut!! I know Kath's is better, but I really wanted to take a crack at it. Plus, I wrote mine first. So there.
> 
> And yes, I definitely had them have the exclusive/STI talk beforehand just so I could have Thomas get rawed over the back of a motorcycle. Because Newt is a Responsible Hoe™.  
> "Don't hoe at all if you don't hoe responsibly." -Amirah


	7. When your stitch comes loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas has got it _bad_ for Newt, and also there is a shower scene.

The Christmas holiday was approaching, which meant Thomas was spending much more time on his coursework. Most of his exams were after the holiday, at the end of January, but he still had projects to turn in and presentations to give. Newt was just as busy as he was, writing essays and finishing projects for his English and Music course. Thomas often found himself working at Newt’s; Newt let him spread his notes and books out over the bed as he worked on his laptop, while Newt sat at his desk working at his computer. Sometimes Newt asked his opinion on a music composition he was working on, but mostly they worked in silence. It helped Thomas to have someone else in the room, as long as they weren’t distracting; it kept him focused, knowing that someone else was focused. Newt was the perfect working companion. He tended to be quiet most of the time anyway, and he worked with a single-minded concentration Thomas envied.  
  
And there was the fact that they took sex breaks every once in a while.  
  
As Thomas’s work was usually spread all over the bed, Newt put down a blanket and some pillows, and they just fucked on the floor. Newt called it stress relief.  
  
Newt’s body was perfect. Thomas knew some people would’ve said Newt was too skinny, but to him Newt’s body was perfect. Thomas was in love with his arms, with the shape of his hips and the way they tapered in just the tiniest bit up to his waist, with his neck. God, Thomas could write sonnets about Newt’s neck. It curved gracefully up from his shoulders, and when it tensed the veins and tendons stood out in a way that made Thomas feel wild and dangerous. Thomas ran his thumb over his adam’s apple, admiring the way it bobbed up and down when he swallowed.  
  
His eyes. His entire face was so expressive, but especially his eyes. They pierced Thomas; they pinned him to the spot. Their rich dark brown colour drew Thomas in until he was drowning in them. His eyes were black holes and Thomas was completely powerless to escape their gravitational pull.  
  
His face had an infinite number of slightly different expressions, and Thomas thought he could spend the rest of his life memorising them. When he frowned, Thomas wanted to kiss the two lines that formed in the middle of his brow. When he raised his eyebrows, three deep wrinkles appeared on his forehead, and Thomas wanted to trace them with his fingers (Thomas thought that forehead wrinkles shouldn’t be sexy, but on Newt they were). His nose was adorable. His impeccable jaw tapered down to the small, rounded point that was his chin, perfect for biting, and underneath, the soft part of his chin just before it turned into his neck, was one of the places Thomas most loved to explore.  
  
His mouth. God, his mouth. It was constantly moving; he was either licking his lips, biting them, touching them, or they were quirking into one of his masterpiece smirks, or turning down in confusion or thought, or stretching into a smile. Thomas’s favourite thing was to restrain Newt’s mouth with his own, where he could feel every fluctuation, every nip, every shudder against his own lips.  
  
His hands, with their long, delicate fingers, had been all over Thomas’s body, and Thomas knew first-hand how deft and skillful they could be.  
  
On the floor, things were intense and urgent. Something about the strain of their workload made everything feel pressing, serious, immediate; their sessions were laced with a kind of desperation that made Thomas want to cling to Newt and hold him close. Newt’s body pressed on top of him, his legs on either side of Thomas, Newt’s mouth over his, hot and swift.  
  
Thomas had his hands at the sides of Newt’s waist, pushing his shirt up enough to touch skin with his hands, and Newt’s bare stomach lay against his own where his shirt was pushed up as well. Thomas savored the feeling of Newt’s narrow hips pressed into his, and everywhere their skin touched was lit on fire, but it was a slow and exquisite burn that Thomas gladly surrendered to. He slid his hands up to Newt’s rib cage, pushing both their shirts up as he went. Newt shifted his weight to first one arm, then the other, as Thomas helped him pull his arms out of the shirt, and then up and over his head. Thomas’s shirt followed it quickly, and then there was nothing blocking him from touching the entirety of Newt’s upper body, and his hands roamed eagerly, wanting to memorise the feel of him.  
  
When it was finally time for sleep, they would carefully clear Thomas’s things off and stack them neatly on the floor. Newt insisted they go to bed at a reasonable hour. Normally Thomas stayed up late into the night at times like these, but with Newt he got enough done during the day that he didn’t feel guilty for going to bed sooner than 4 in the morning.  
  
Thomas was sleeping at Newt’s more often than his own flat these days. Newt had a full sized bed, and he didn’t mind sharing. Thomas told himself it was just for the convenience of having his fuckbuddy around and easily accessible, but that didn’t really seem to be true anymore. The truth was that Newt seemed to actually like having him around; just him, Thomas, for himself, not just for sex. Thomas tried not to let himself think about it too much. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just for them to be disappointed when Newt finally got tired of him.  
  
Thomas rolled over, facing Newt’s sleeping form. Thomas had always been a bit of a thrasher, tossing and turning in his sleep. Before, with others, he had always balanced himself nearly on the edge of the mattress, and lay there tense all night, afraid to take up too much space, afraid to disturb the other person. But with Newt it didn’t matter, because Newt slept like the dead. Nothing could wake him up if he didn’t want to be woken. Once Thomas, thrashing in his sleep as usual, had flung an arm out and accidentally smacked Newt in the face. It had woken Thomas up, but not Newt, who slept on, breathing softly, as though nothing had happened. With Newt, Thomas felt free to simply exist. To relax and be completely himself.  
  
The truth, which Thomas kept carefully buried so deep he wouldn’t even think it to himself, was that somewhere along the line Newt had started to feel like home.  
  
Thomas watched Newt sleep, half asleep himself. Newt exhaled softly, and Thomas reached out a hand to cup his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Knowing it wouldn’t disturb him from sleep, Thomas began massaging Newt’s shoulder, reaching around to massage the back of his neck and as much of the top of his back as he could reach. Scooting closer, he could reach over Newt’s side to rub more of his middle and lower back. He ran his knuckles along Newt’s spine, gently dug his fingers into his back muscles, pressed into his shoulder blades, moving his fingers in tiny circles.  
  
As if he could sense what Thomas was doing, Newt started to stir, and Thomas froze, but he simply rolled over and continued sleeping. Now able to reach it easier, Thomas resumed his massage of Newt’s back, reaching down to rub the base of his spine, digging his fingers into the bones of his hips.  
  
When his arms got tired, Thomas wriggled closer until he was lying right next to Newt, sliding his arm over Newt’s side and curling up to clasp Newt’s hand. Newt sighed, mumbling something in his sleep, and his hand closed around Thomas’s.  
  
Sometimes Thomas thought about how much it was going to hurt when Newt eventually got tired of him and stopped letting him hang around all the time, and his chest got strangely tight and heavy. But every time, he pushed the thought away, determined to simply enjoy his time with Newt as long as it lasted.  
  
It was Christmas day, and Thomas was over at Minho’s otherwise empty flat. Minho was the only person he knew who didn’t go home for Christmas either; Minho hated taking the nearly 15 hour flight from London to Manila, and Thomas’s excuse was that the airline ticket home was too expensive, but really he just didn’t want to go. This was the third time they had spent Christmas together, and it had become something of a tradition: they cooked a bunch of food, and sat around watching the Doctor Who Christmas special and various Christmas movies. Sometimes they played card games, the ones that could be played with only two players. Minho cooked a turkey and gravy from a simple recipe he’d gotten off the internet, and some vegetable sides; Thomas handled the desserts. Every year he attempted a pecan pie, and this year it had actually turned out decent (the first year they’d done this, it had barely been edible). He also made cinnamon rolls from scratch, a sweet and sticky confection that tested his bread-making skills. And of course, chocolate fudge. To Thomas it wasn’t really Christmas without chocolate fudge, which he’d grown up making around this time of year. It was just the recipe from the back of the marshmallow creme jar, but to Thomas it was magical.  
  
They were watching Elf, and Thomas was feeling pleasantly full from their miniature feast. Newt had sent him a picture of himself and Sonya wearing paper crowns from Christmas crackers, and Thomas sent back a picture of himself and Minho lying on the couch, making goofy faces.  
  
“Are you texting Newt _again_?” Minho asked, watching Thomas on his phone.  
  
“Maybe…”  
  
“How’s your boyfriend?”  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Thomas said automatically.  
  
“Let me see that.” Minho said, grabbing Thomas’s phone and scrolling up through past messages. “For fuck’s sake, you’ve been texting him all day!”  
  
“I have not,” Thomas protested.  
  
“Yes you have, I’m looking right at it!” Minho said loudly. “Twenty minutes ago: ‘I’m so full why did I eat so much turkey’; and before that: ‘Remind me to make you some fudge when you get back it’s the best thing ever’, to which he replied ‘Looking forward to it’; and before that: ‘I’m so ready to spend the day hanging out with Minho and doing nothing’. Thanks for the shout-out, by the way,” he shot at Thomas, looking up briefly, then continued scrolling through Thomas’s messages. “You guys have been texting each other almost constantly for days! It just keeps going and going.”  
  
“We haven’t seen each other in like a week,” Thomas complained. “And you should probably stop scrolling, unless you want to see--”  
  
“UGH, JESUS CHRIST,” Minho yelled, tearing his eyes away from the phone and lobbing it back at Thomas. “Why didn’t you stop me sooner? Now I can never unsee that.”  
  
“Well, we’ve never gone this long without having sex, so… we needed to relieve the tension somehow.” Thomas said. “Besides, it’s your fault for stealing my phone in the first place.”  
  
“I need to go wash my eyes out with bleach,” Minho muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.  
  
“That wasn’t even the worst one. You got off pretty easy.”  
  
“Like you, apparently.”  
  
“Shut up!” Thomas said, smacking Minho on the shoulder. Minho flashed him an evil smirk, and Thomas tried to swat at him again, but Minho dodged him. His momentum carried him forward, and he fell into Minho, and then both boys were laughing breathlessly and leaning on each other.  
  
Minho spoke again. “So, you guys are hanging out basically all the time, and when you’re not together you text each other constantly, and you’ve both agreed to be exclusive… are you _sure_ you’re not dating?”  
  
“We’re not dating,” Thomas confirmed.  
  
“Do you want to be dating?”  
  
“I don’t know…” Thomas shifted uncomfortably. “I like how we are. I don’t want to rock the boat.”  
  
“But say he asked you to be his boyfriend. You’d say yes, right?”  
  
Thomas wouldn’t meet Minho’s eye. “Look, that’s not going to happen, ok? And there’s no point in thinking about all these hypothetical situations that are never going to happen. So can we just drop it?”  
  
Minho finally realised he had gone too far. “Hey, I’m sorry, man,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Thomas sighed.  
  
Right on cue, on the TV Buddy the Elf burst into his father’s conference room and shouted, “I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it!”  
  
Minho had the good grace not to say anything.  
  
Newt didn’t return until after New Year’s, and then they were so busy studying for exams Thomas still didn’t get a chance to see him. Finally one day Thomas decided to just text him asking to come over.  
  
_Hey, are you doing anything tonight? I could come over. I haven’t seen you in over two weeks._  
  
Thomas erased the last sentence; it sounded too needy. Instead he wrote: _It might be nice to take a little break._  
  
He hit send. An hour later, and the message was still stubbornly stuck on one grey check mark.  
  
Well. He knew where Newt lived. It wouldn’t be that unusual to drop by and see if he was there. And if he wasn’t, Thomas needed to go to the library anyway, and it was closer to Newt’s than his flat. So really, he might as well. Thomas put some books and his laptop in his backpack and started walking. Just in case, he sent Newt another message: _omw to the library, might swing by yours if you’re there?_  
  
When he was walking up Newt’s street, he saw Newt right away. He was outside the front of the house, leaning against the brick wall, smoking. He looked up when Thomas reached the gate.  
  
“Shit,” Newt said, stubbing out the cigarette. “I didn’t know you were coming.” Newt looked much more agitated than Thomas had ever seen with him. He kept fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and his hands were constantly moving, twisting together down by his legs or agitating his hair. His hair looked extra messy, like he had been running his hands through it a lot.  
  
“I texted you,” Thomas said uncertainly.  
  
“I turned my phone off. Shit, sorry. You must’ve thought I was ignoring you.”  
  
“Nah, it’s fine.”  
  
The silence grew as Thomas waited for Newt to speak. Newt fidgeted some more.  
  
“Listen, Tommy...” he said finally, exhaling heavily and running a hand through his hair again, “I don’t really feel in the mood for sex tonight.”  
  
Thomas felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest, but he tried not to let it show. Maybe he was wrong about Newt liking him for more than just sex.  
  
“Are you ok?”  
  
Newt gave a sharp, humourless laugh. “Oh, so something must be wrong with me if I don’t want to have sex?”  
  
“That’s not what I meant, I--”  
  
“It’s ok, Tommy,” Newt cut him off. “I’m just being a dick. I’m sorry.” He sighed, looking at the ground. “You kind of… caught me on a bad night.”  
  
“If you need me to leave, I can. I was planning on going to the library anyway.”  
  
“No, no, it’s ok.” Newt’s eyes darted up to Thomas’s, then back to the ground. “You can stay.” He took a deep breath, then looked up at Thomas, this time holding his gaze. “I want you to stay.”  
  
They went inside, up to Newt’s room, and settled into their usual spots, Thomas sitting on Newt’s bed, Newt sitting at his desk chair. They didn’t speak for a while, and Newt was still fidgeting and messing with his hair.  
  
“Newt, what’s wrong?” Thomas asked. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me what it is if you don’t want to, but I can tell something’s wrong.”  
  
Newt slumped down, leaning his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. “It’s nothing really,” he said, voice slightly muffled by his hands. “I’m just stressed out. Because of my exams. I _fucking hate_ doing exams.” He brought his head up to look at Thomas again. “I don’t test well. I never have. Something about exams just makes me freeze up. I can write essays or give presentations all day long, but give me an exam and my mind goes absolutely fucking blank.”  
  
Thomas tried to think of something to say. As usual, when he was at a loss for words, the first thing he thought of was a joke. “Well,” he said, “if you get stuck, you can always just start talking about the homosexual subtext of whatever book or story they’ve asked you about. There’s almost always some homosexual subtext, so you should be safe.”  
  
Newt let out a startled laugh, only one syllable, followed by a genuine chuckle. He looked surprised to be laughing at all. “What would I do without you, Tommy?”  
  
Thomas just smiled. Newt got up from the chair and went to sit beside Thomas on the bed. Their weight indented the mattress, making them lean into each other. Newt put his arm around Thomas’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug.Thomas collapsed against Newt’s chest and put his arms around Newt’s middle, returning the embrace. He buried his face in Newt’s chest.  
  
When they finally pulled apart, Thomas asked, “Are you sure you’re ok with me staying?”  
  
“Yeah,” Newt answered, smiling softly. “I like having you here. You have a calming energy.”  
  
Thomas glowed with happiness.  
  
They didn’t have sex, or even make out. They just sat together, mostly in silence, each studying their own things. They ordered takeout, and ate it on the bed while watching _Parks and Recreation_ on Thomas’s laptop, then went back to studying. Newt still wasn’t his normal relaxed self; he still fidgeted more than usual, and he went outside to smoke five times. But he let Thomas stay the night anyway, and Thomas fell asleep holding Newt, with one arm underneath Newt’s neck and the other curling around his middle, his face inches from Newt’s soft blond hair.  
  
The next few days went by in a blur of books and notes and exams. Thomas had just one exam left, set for the next day. He wasn’t exactly unprepared; he’d reviewed all of the coursework, but there were a few things he wouldn’t mind making sure he really had nailed down before his exam tomorrow. He was planning on going to the library for a few hours before going to bed.  
  
His phone buzzed. It was from Newt.  
  
_Had my last exam today. You coming over later?_  
  
_Can’t,_ Thomas texted back. _My last exam’s tomorrow._  
  
_:((((_  
  
_I have to study…_  
  
_You can study here…_  
  
Thomas sighed to himself. He did really need to cram in some last-minute studying, and he wasn’t sure he trusted Newt not to distract him now that he was finished with his own exams. On the other hand, Newt had always been good about letting him focus before. And there was really no difference between studying at Newt’s and at the library. Except that at Newt’s he might get a chance for some “stress relief”.  
  
_Ok, you win. I’m headed over now._  
  
_:)_  
  
_You know I can never resist when you beg._  
  
When Thomas arrived at Newt’s, Newt was there to greet him at the door. He pulled Thomas inside and kissed him immediately.  
  
Thomas felt a broad grin spread across his face. “You seem remarkably cheerful,” he said.  
  
“I’m _so fucking happy_ to be finished with exams,” Newt answered, putting his arms around Thomas’s waist. Thomas beamed even wider, if that were possible. Newt’s happiness was infectious.  
  
Newt pulled Thomas even closer, snaking his arms tighter around him, then kissed him again, slower and deeper this time.Thomas responded by putting his arms around Newt’s neck and returning the kiss readily. This felt like a gift, Newt being so open about wanting him.  
  
Thomas pulled back. “I actually do need to study for my exam tomorrow though,” he said.  
  
Newt smiled wryly. “Would you rather study first, or fuck first?”  
  
Thomas hesitated. “Study first,” he answered finally. “Get the boring stuff out of the way.”  
  
They went up to Newt’s room, and Thomas settled into his usual spot on Newt’s bed, notes spread around him, while Newt sat at his desk with a book.  
  
Thomas meant to study for a few hours, and then reward himself with sex with Newt. He really wanted to take advantage of Newt’s current mood. But he had miscalculated how tired he was from the past few days of exams and staying up late studying.  
  
The last thing he remembered, he was lying on Newt’s bed, reading his notes. His eyelids felt so heavy; he told himself he’d just close them for a few seconds.  
  
The next thing he knew, Newt was saying his name softly. “Tommy? Are you awake?”  
  
“I’m awake,” he said, raising his head up slowly, blinking.  
  
Newt laughed at him. “Are you sure?”  
  
He put his head down again, and he was out. He came back briefly, realising through his sleepy fog that the lights were off and he was under the duvet. Newt must have cleared his notes off the bed and tucked him in. He stirred, groaning quietly, but Newt was there, leaning over him.  
  
“It’s ok, Tommy. Go to sleep,” he murmured, his face so close to Thomas’s he could feel Newt’s breath gently fluttering his hair. And then it felt like Newt kissed Thomas on the temple, but that must have been an exhaustion-fueled figment of his imagination, because Thomas was certain Newt would never do something like that.  
  
Thomas felt the mattress shift with Newt’s weight, and then Newt was crawling under the duvet with him, turning towards him and gathering Thomas into his arms.  
  
“Newt,” Thomas mumbled sleepily. He wondered if this was a dream. Instinctively, he allowed himself to be pulled towards Newt, wrapping his arms around him in return.  
  
“Hey, Tommy,” Newt whispered. He kissed Thomas on the neck once, slowly. “Go back to sleep,” he said softly, stroking the hair from Thomas’s forehead. Thomas drifted off gradually, his dreams creeping backward over waking life and touching everything with a haze of uncertainty.  
  
“Tommy,” Newt was saying gently, “Tommy, wake up. You have to take your exam.”  
  
Thomas bolted upright. “Shit,” he muttered, blinking sleepily and rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”  
  
“Just after 8.”  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His exam was in less than an hour. He still needed to get ready, and then he had to walk to the building where the exam was being held, which was at least a 40 minute walk. “I need to leave, like _now_.”  
  
“Relax,” Newt said. “I’ll drive you, it’ll take less than 5 minutes. You have plenty of time.”  
  
“Oh, thank fuck,” Thomas groaned in relief.  
  
“Besides, you need to eat breakfast. You can’t test on an empty stomach.”  
  
They went down to the kitchen. One of Newt’s housemates, Frypan, was already there, cooking bacon on the stove. (“He told us to call him that,” Newt had explained when he’d introduced Thomas to Frypan. Thomas still didn’t know what Frypan’s real name was.)  
  
“Morning, Newt,” he said cheerfully when they entered. “Alright, Thomas?”  
  
“Hey, Fry,” Newt said.  
  
“Want anything?” Frypan asked. “I could make you eggs and bacon, maybe a bit of toast?”  
  
“You don’t mind cooking for us?” Thomas asked.  
  
“Hey, it’s better than letting this idiot anywhere near the hob. Last time he tried to cook something he set fire to it instead, nearly burned the place down.”  
  
“Really?” Thomas asked, laughing and sneaking a sideways glance at Newt. Newt met his eye and nodded.  
  
“It’s true,” Newt confirmed, putting on a phony bashful face. “Besides, Fry loves feeding people, right Fry?”  
  
“It’s my one true passion,” Frypan answered.  
  
“We need the works today,” Newt told him. “Tommy needs exam fuel.”  
  
“The works, comin’ right up!”  
  
While Frypan was cooking more bacon, Newt’s other housemates trickled into the kitchen, perhaps attracted by the delicious smell.  
  
“Hey Alby, hey Zart,” Thomas greeted them as they came in.  
  
“Morning,” Zart answered. Alby only nodded at him. Of Newt’s three housemates, Alby was the only one who was less than warm to Thomas, but that might have been because his room shared a wall with Newt’s, and Thomas wasn’t always as quiet as he should’ve been.  
  
As Frypan served up a complete breakfast, the five boys ate hungrily. The sounds of chewing and forks scraping plates was occasionally broken by conversation, mainly between the four housemates. Thomas was too nervous about his exam to contribute much.  
  
“Car or motorbike?” Newt asked when they were finished.  
  
Thomas considered. “Car,” he answered firmly. If he ended up throwing up from nerves, he’d at least have less chance of getting it all over Newt if they were in the car.  
  
Thomas resisted the urge to pull out his notes and study in the car on the way there. There wouldn’t be enough time, and anyway it was much too close to the exam time to actually absorb any new information; if he wasn’t prepared by now, it was too late. But still the impulse tugged at him, last-minute panic urging him to try and cram in just a tiny bit more.  
  
Newt pulled up in front of the building where the exam was being held and checked the time. “Still have 15 minutes to spare,” he said, smiling at Thomas.  
  
“Thank you so much for driving me,” Thomas said.  
  
“It’s no problem, really,” Newt answered. “What time do you get out? I can pick you up.”  
  
“It lasts two hours, so…” Thomas counted in his head. “11?”  
  
“I’ll be here.”  
  
As he walked into the building, one thought managed to sneak into Thomas’s brain between the list of facts and concepts frantically flooding it, and that was that he had stayed the night at Newt’s twice now without any sex being involved, not even the morning after. With his exam beginning in less than 10 minutes now, he couldn’t spare any time to consider it in more depth, but for some reason he couldn’t name, the thought almost scared him.  
  
Somehow Thomas managed to get through the exam, and he even thought he had answered most of the questions relatively well. He walked out of the building feeling oddly light and free, as if he might just float away; and there was Newt, waiting in his car for Thomas as promised.  
  
“How was the exam?” Newt asked as Thomas climbed into the passenger seat and swung the door shut.  
  
“Not too bad, actually. I think I did pretty well.”  
  
“Good.” Newt smiled, eyes still on the road. Thomas watched him, taking advantage of the opportunity to stare at Newt without him being able to stare back. He loved Newt’s profile, the soft arch of his forehead curving into the straight line of his nose, pushing out from his face. Even smiling, as he was now, the familiar lines Thomas liked so much were etched into his brow. A few locks of hair flopped down over his forehead, and Thomas had to fight the urge to reach over and brush them back. As it often did when he was concentrating on something, Newt’s tongue flicked just slightly out of the corner of his mouth, and he held it there between his teeth. Now that Thomas knew exactly what that tongue could do, he found it even hotter than when he simply had to imagine.  
  
They arrived back at Newt’s and went up to his room. Thomas felt the post-exam euphoria flooding through him, buoying him up. Combined with his leftover exhaustion, it made him feel loose and sensual; seductive in a way he was normally too timid to allow himself, unless he were drunk.  
  
Newt, on the other hand, seemed lethargic. He wrapped his arms around Thomas and collapsed onto the bed, dragging Thomas with him.  
  
“I’m crashing, Tommy,” he complained. “Too much stress and too many late nights are catching up with me.”  
  
Thomas raised his head to look at Newt. “I’ll have to think of something to wake you up, then,” he said grinning mischievously. Rolling sideways so his weight was off of Newt, he leaned in to kiss him, slow and passionate, while his hands went to Newt’s belt buckle, working quickly. Breaking off the kiss, he lazily started pulling Newt’s jeans and boxers off, moving farther down so he could pull them all the way off, yanking off his shoes and socks as well, leaving Newt completely bare from the waist down. Newt lay very still, inhaling audibly.  
  
Slowly, slowly, Thomas crawled back up over Newt’s legs, pushing them apart gently as he went, stopping when his face was at Newt’s groin. Ignoring his already swelling cock, Thomas kissed up Newt’s thigh, then set his tongue to work on his balls, all over and around them, stretching it as far as it could reach underneath into his crotch. Thomas’s fingers dug into Newt’s thighs, alternately massaging and lifting so he had better access, mouth reaching for that space behind the balls, the place he knew drove Newt mad.  
  
Thomas pulled his mouth away just enough to ask, “Is this working? Are you feeling more awake?”  
  
Newt sat up, putting his hands on Thomas’s face. “Oh, it’s definitely working,” he said, grinning. “But I haven’t showered in about three days, so I can’t imagine it’s very pleasant down there for you.”  
  
Thomas’s lips twisted into a smirk, thinking. Truthfully, in his current amorous mood, he didn’t mind, but Newt’s comment had put another idea into his mind.  
  
He got up and went to the door, opening it just a crack to peer out into the hallway. The coast was clear, and he went to pull Newt up and drag him, still half-naked, out of the bedroom, down the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door quickly behind them.  
  
Thomas kissed Newt lustfully, hands roaming down his back and lower down, pressing Newt to himself. Newt responded in kind, hands going to the back of Thomas’s neck, crushing his face into Thomas’s as they devoured each other.  
  
Thomas didn’t think he had ever gotten undressed so quickly. When they were both completely naked, Thomas reached in the bath to turn the water on, pulling the switch that diverted the water to the shower head. While they waited for the water to heat up, Thomas kissed Newt again, enjoying the feeling of Newt’s naked body pressed into his, and the faint poke of Newt’s erection against his hip. A soft groan slipped out of Newt’s mouth, and Thomas continued with even more fervor.  
  
When steam was rising from the water, Thomas led Newt into the shower, stepping carefully over the ledge of the bath and pulling the curtain closed. For a while they just kissed under the nearly-scalding stream, the water warming their bodies and making Thomas feel wild with desire. Then Thomas reached for the bottle of body soap, poured a generous amount into his hand, and began to lather Newt up.  
  
Newt’s eyes locked onto his, and Thomas smiled as he rubbed the soap on Newt’s shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his back, his arms. Thomas relished the slick feeling the soap gave Newt’s skin, how it made his own skin glide so smoothly across it. He leaned in slightly, and his stomach and chest touched Newt’s, and the sensation was so delightful his hands glided up Newt’s back, past his neck, into his hair, pulling his head towards himself. The water poured onto both their heads, soaking their hair and dripping down their faces, a few trickles making it into their mouths, and Thomas felt himself swallowing the warm water along with the salty flavour of Newt’s skin.  
  
With one hand, he gathered some of the suds from Newt’s chest, then reached between Newt’s legs, rubbing the soap in lightly but thoroughly. Newt sighed against Thomas’s lips, his arms tightening ever so slightly around Thomas’s shoulders. When Thomas’s hand wrapped around his cock, Newt moaned softly, moving his face to the side of Thomas’s so that he was moaning right into his ear.  
  
Thomas stepped back, then slowly knelt on the shower floor, not even caring how undignified he looked. He kissed Newt right on the crease where his leg met his torso, then kissed his way up to the lower part of Newt’s abs, teasing him by touching his lips all around, everywhere but where he knew Newt most wanted him. Newt’s hand gripped his shoulder, and Thomas could hear his breathing becoming ragged.  
  
Newt was being unusually submissive, and Thomas revelled in the reversal of their normal roles. When he finally took Newt into his mouth, he heard a soft gasp above him, and he went to his task eagerly, trying to elicit as many of those satisfying noises from Newt as possible.  
  
Thomas pulled back and turned Newt to face away from him, then pushed one leg up to rest on the ledge where the bath met the shower wall. Slowly, he massaged Newt’s asscheeks, spreading them and pushing up, rotating, before sinking his mouth in, tongue caressing deliberately and leisurely. He was met with the faint tang of the soap, the fruity smell mixing oddly with the bitter alkaline taste.  
  
“Tommy,” Newt breathed. “What’s gotten into you?” Thomas just looked up at him through his wet lashes, smiling wickedly. Newt leaned his forehead against the tiled wall and groaned. “Whatever it is, I think I like it.”  
  
“Maybe you rubbed off on me,” Thomas said, then put his mouth back to work elsewhere.  
  
Newt chuckled. “While I was rubbing you off, I rubbed off on you.” In answer, Thomas used his tongue to make him moan even louder and cry out in pleasure. Thomas kept at it until Newt was shaking and writhing against the tiled wall, panting and moaning. Then he stood up and turned off the water, and they took turns drying each other off with a towel.  
  
And then they moved back to the bed to finish what they’d started.  
  
Afterward, Thomas lay in the bed with Newt, idly kissing his shoulder, arms wrapped around his middle, their legs entangled. His freshly clean skin touching Newt’s felt sublime, and Thomas made as many points of contact as he could. Here, in bed with Newt, still glowing from his recent climax, Thomas felt absolutely, completely happy.  
  
“Tommy?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I don’t know if you know this, but my birthday’s two weeks from Friday. And I was going to have a little party, nothing huge, just a few people over for dinner really, but… I was wondering if you wanted to come?”  
  
“Of course I’ll come to your birthday dinner,” Thomas said, smiling. “How old are you turning?”  
  
“Twenty-two.”  
  
“So you can sing that Taylor Swift song.”  
  
“Yes, I’ve been waiting my whole life to be able to sing that song,” Newt laughed.  
  
Thomas was silent for a moment, then said, “You’re in third year, right? Did you take a gap year before university?”  
  
“No, I took a year out last year.”  
  
Thomas was curious, but something about the way Newt wouldn’t look at him when he said it made him swallow his questions. Instead he settled against Newt’s body, kissing his jaw and neck a few times before closing his eyes and drifting off into the best sleep he’d had in weeks.


	8. I always make such expensive mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys play with sex toys, and Newt's birthday dinner happens.

“What kind of sex toys do you have?” Thomas asked nervously. He had been wracking his brain for days to think of a suitable birthday present for Newt, and he had an idea that he thought was really good, but he needed to make sure Newt didn’t already have it. He hoped Newt would take his unease for excitement at the prospect of using sex toys, and not guess that he had an ulterior motive.  
  
Newt seemed to take the bait. With an impish grin, he asked, “You want to see my collection of sex toys, Tommy?”  
  
Thomas matched his grin, slinking towards him and putting his hands on Newt’s ass to pull him closer. “I asked, didn’t I?”  
  
Newt put his hands on Thomas’s neck, rubbing his thumbs lightly up and down, then leaned in to plant a soft kiss on Thomas’s lips. Then he stepped back, raising his eyebrows suggestively, and turned towards the bed. He knelt down, reaching under the bed and pulling out an intimidating-looking metal case. When he swung the lid open, Thomas peered over his shoulder. He saw several items that interested him, but luckily nothing looked like what he had been considering.  
  
Thomas moved around Newt and crouched down to take a closer look. Among other things, there were a few dildos and butt plugs, cock rings made of various materials, and some items that looked vaguely like different kinds of restraints.  
  
Newt picked up one of the butt plugs. “This one vibrates around your asshole,” he explained, showing Thomas the buttons.  
  
“There’s so many, I don’t even know where to start.”  
  
“I can’t believe we haven’t gotten into any of these before,” Newt said, glancing at Thomas sideways.  
  
“I know,” Thomas agreed. “And I _think_ I remember someone promising to break me…” He stared cockily at Newt, tilting his head in challenge. “It’s like you weren’t even trying.”  
  
Newt breathed out a laugh, mouth open, then ran his tongue over his top lip as he looked at Thomas like he was planning all the things he wanted to do to him. Thomas felt a fluttering deep in the pit of his stomach. He looked back down at the box, and selected one of the leather cock rings, the one with the buckle.  
  
“I want you to fuck me while wearing this,” he said in a low voice, “and… I want you to wear your leather jacket.”  
  
Newt fixed him with that look, the one that made his breaths come in shallow gasps and his head feel like it was full of molasses and his heart feel light as a feather.  
  
“And,” Thomas added, swallowing hard around his suddenly dry throat, “I want you to start me out with this.” He grabbed one of the dildos, one of the curved ones with the large knob at the end.  
  
“What about these?” Newt asked, indicating some of the restraints. The slightest hint of a smile played upon his lips. Thomas thought he could see wrist cuffs, and his pulse hummed even faster.  
  
“We’ll save those for another time,” Thomas said, looking at Newt significantly.  
  
Newt took the cock ring and the dildo from Thomas’s hands, pulling him to his feet and kissing him slowly and deeply. “Whatever you want, Tommy,” he said sweetly. Then his face changed, suddenly looking very stern, his eyes intense and almost angry, and he grabbed Thomas by the neck with one hand, fingers creeping up his jaw, squeezing ever so slightly. Thomas could feel himself already getting hard, and then Newt spoke again.  
  
“But you better not get cum on my jacket.”  
  
Thomas was starting to wonder if he had a leather kink and he’d just never realized it before. Between the leather cock ring, the leather jacket, and the leather belt Newt currently had wrapped around Thomas’s throat, it was starting to look that way. This was a whole new level of arousal, and Thomas could tell Newt was feeling it too by the way he issued commands and controlled Thomas’s every move. And when Newt was like this, something came over Thomas and all he wanted to do was obey Newt’s every order, follow his every whim, because he knew Newt would reward him. He craved Newt’s approval; he wanted Newt to use him however he saw fit.  
  
Thomas was good at following directions (at least, he was when Newt was the one giving them). And Newt was good at rewarding him for it.  
  
Later, after they had cleaned off themselves and the toys, Thomas lay in Newt’s arms, feeling completely satisfied. Newt had his face nestled up against the side of Thomas’s, and he would occasionally move his head just slightly side to side, rubbing his nose into Thomas’s cheek, and then press his lips in so lightly it felt like just the ghost of a kiss. Thomas turned his head so he was facing Newt, then gently pressed his lips to Newt’s, moving them tenderly and slowly. Newt pulled back, just a fraction of an inch, and smiled at Thomas, and his brown eyes softened and crinkled at the corners, making Thomas melt.  
  
“I had you broken a long time ago,” Newt whispered. “You would do anything I said. I have you in the palm of my hand.”  
  
Thomas smiled back at him. “Maybe that’s exactly where I want to be,” he said, then closed the distance between them, kissing Newt, taking his time.  
  
Newt rolled, pulling Thomas on top of him. Thomas leaned on his elbows, his arms on either side of Newt under his shoulders, lacing his fingers together behind Newt’s neck, his thumbs fitting perfectly along Newt’s jawline. Thomas leaned down to kiss him, and his body automatically arched, gently grinding his hips into Newt’s. Newt’s arms were wrapped around him, hands sliding up his back, to his shoulders. Thomas loved the way Newt looked underneath him, head tilted just slightly back, lips swollen, eyes dark and beguiling. Thomas kissed him again, this time working his way from Newt’s chin, up the line of his jaw, nibbling on his earlobe, then down the side of his neck, biting his collarbone. His body found a natural rhythm, rocking slowly, rolling into Newt and back again. Thomas followed Newt’s collarbone to his shoulder, spending a moment there before working his way along the top of his shoulder back to his neck. Thomas could never keep himself away from Newt’s neck for long. Newt leaned his head back and sighed softly, and Thomas moved his lips right over Newt’s throat, and he could feel when Newt swallowed against his mouth. He went just a few inches to the side, and he could feel Newt’s pulse ticking gently against his lips, so he just left them there for several seconds, enjoying the sensation.  
  
“Tommy,” Newt breathed, so soft Thomas thought he might have imagined it. Thomas moved his mouth back to cover Newt’s, and they moved together, lips pliable and patient.  
  
Thomas felt something welling up inside of him, and as he looked once more at Newt beneath him, he felt overwhelmed with the desire to say something. But he pushed it down, repressing the urge, and instead he kissed Newt, trying to convey in that kiss everything he was too afraid to say out loud.  
  
It was Newt’s birthday, the day of the dinner party. Thomas had arrived early to give Newt his birthday present. He suddenly felt nervous; he’d been really excited when he bought it, but now he was worried it was too over the top, or that Newt wouldn’t find it as funny as he had.  
  
Newt opened the door, and the first thing Thomas noticed was his chest. He was wearing a button-up shirt, and he’d left the top several buttons undone, showing off his collarbone and the top inner corners of his pecs, and if he stretched his shoulders back just a little, Thomas could see the lower inner corners as well. Thomas stopped breathing for a second as his heart skipped a beat, and he had to stop himself from attacking Newt right there in the doorway.  
  
“You’re early,” Newt said, bringing Thomas hurtling back to reality.  
  
“I wanted to give you your present,” Thomas replied, holding up the bag.  
  
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Newt said with a small smile.  
  
“Well, it’s kind of for me too,” Thomas said, and Newt raised his eyebrows at him. “You’ll understand when you see what it is.” Thomas grinned.  
  
They went up to Newt’s room, and Newt unwrapped the gift. When he pulled it out of the bag, he just stared at it for a few seconds without saying anything.  
  
“It’s a vibrator, but it’s designed specifically to stimulate your prostate,” Thomas explained. “So it’s kind of like a vibrating prostate massager.”  
  
“Yes, I can see that, Tommy,” Newt laughed delightedly.  
  
“So you like it?”  
  
Newt pressed his lips together, not quite suppressing his smile as he looked at Thomas. His eyes were starting to get that look, and Thomas wondered how long they had before the other guests started to arrive.  
  
“It’s perfect,” Newt said.  
  
“Oh, just so you know, I also wrote you a note, just like, a little happy birthday note because I was too lazy to get a card. It’s there in the bag.”  
  
“I’ll read it later,” Newt said, his eyes boring holes into Thomas, and Thomas felt his throat close up and his heart pound.  
  
“Yeah, later’s good,” he said, voice shaking, as Newt advanced towards him, and god, with those eyes and that hair and _that fucking shirt_ Thomas thought he might snap as soon as Newt touched him.  
  
Newt stood just close enough to Thomas to reach out his hand and lightly stroke the side of Thomas’s neck, elbow bent, fingers just grazing Thomas’s skin. Thomas felt rooted to the spot, and his chest heaved as Newt’s touch sent sparks of electricity from where his fingers made contact, throughout Thomas’s entire body. Newt smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on Thomas.  
  
Newt glanced down at the vibrator still held in his other hand. “I kind of want to use it on you,” he said, eyes flicking back up to Thomas.  
  
“But it’s your birthday,” Thomas said, his voice coming out in a breathy rasp.  
  
“True.” Newt’s mouth twisted as he considered. Then he took a step closer to Thomas, and Thomas stopped breathing completely. Newt came right up next to Thomas, until his face was less than an inch from Thomas’s, one hand still resting against Thomas’s neck. “I’ll let you use it on me,” he murmured, and Thomas couldn’t stop staring at his lips as they formed words, “and then I’ll do something special for you.” The hand on his neck slid around to cup Thomas’s chin. Thomas was afraid if he moved he would just collapse.  
  
“That sounds… good.” Thomas’s voice was ragged, and his head was starting to spin, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Newt’s proximity or because he still wasn’t breathing properly. Either way, it was Newt’s fault, and Thomas didn’t even care.  
  
“Then let’s get to work.”  
  
The vibrator worked very well. In what seemed like no time at all, Thomas had Newt shaking and begging for release. And then, as promised, Newt took care of Thomas. Newt still had a few tricks up his sleeve that he’d been keeping in reserve, and Thomas enjoyed them immensely. Thomas couldn’t wait to find out what other talents he was hiding.  
  
When they were finished, they hurriedly cleaned up and put their clothes back on, trying to get ready again before everyone arrived for the party. Newt picked up the bag the vibrator had been in, and his long fingers picked out the folded piece of paper that was Thomas’s letter, holding it up.  
  
“Should I read it now or wait until later?” Newt asked, smiling.  
  
“You can read it now, before everyone gets here, or later, after they leave,” Thomas said. “It’s not a big deal, but you’ll probably want to read it in private.”  
  
“Should you be here when I read it?”  
  
“Umm… I might be too embarrassed,” Thomas laughed.  
  
Newt raised his eyebrows. “Now my curiosity is piqued.”  
  
“I’ll go wait downstairs,” Thomas said, blushing, “so you can read it, and just come down when you’re done.”  
  
As soon as he was downstairs, Thomas wondered if he had made a horrible mistake giving that letter to Newt. Things had been going so well; what if it ruined everything? Thomas waited and waited. He thought Newt was taking an awfully long time to read the letter. What if he hated it?  
  
Finally Newt came down, and Thomas eagerly scanned his face for clues about what he was thinking. But Newt kept his face carefully closed off, revealing very little, although he did smile reassuringly at Thomas and take his hand for a second, squeezing once, before dropping it again. In any case, people had started to arrive for the party, so if Thomas was going to get any kind of reaction to the letter, it would have to wait until later.  
  
The party started out great fun. Newt’s housemates, Alby, Zart and Frypan, were all there, as well as Minho and Brenda, who Newt had been friends with before he and Thomas met. There were also two other friends of Newt’s who Thomas didn’t know. They ordered a huge amount of a wide variety of curries, and Frypan had baked a cake. They sat around talking and drinking wine and Newt’s fancy beers. It was a very intimate gathering, and Thomas was glad he had at least a few people there he knew well. Eventually, Newt introduced him to the two he didn’t know, Alex from his course, and Alex’s girlfriend Mary. Looking back, Thomas pinpointed this as the moment when things started to go wrong.  
  
“Alex, Mary, have you met Thomas?”  
  
“Nice to meet you,” Mary said, shaking Thomas’s hand. “Are you Newt’s boyfriend?”  
  
Thomas froze, then turned to look at Newt.  
  
Newt was ignoring Thomas, looking at Mary instead. “Oh no, we’re not dating,” he said smoothly. “Thomas and I are just friends who sleep together.”  
  
“Oh, sorry,” Mary said, laughing it off. Thomas tried to laugh along, but the part of his brain that controlled laughter seemed to be broken.  
  
Thomas enjoyed the rest of the party, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slightly off between him and Newt. Thomas hoped to smooth it over afterward, when he and Newt could be alone, but when everyone who didn’t live there started to leave, Newt told Thomas he wanted to be alone that night.  
  
“Sorry, I’m just feeling really tired,” Newt said. “And at least we already fucked earlier today, so it’s not like we’re missing out.”  
  
Thomas wanted to say that he’d stayed over without them having sex plenty of times before, but it was Newt’s house, and Newt’s birthday, and he didn’t want to be intrusive. So he left, and went back to his flat, which felt smaller and lonelier than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like this is one of the weakest chapters? For some reason whenever I tried to write kinky shit all this soft shit kept coming out instead??? So I just kind of wrote around it and hopefully you can fill it in with your imagination :P


	9. All you sinners stand up sing hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a lot of angst. (Sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let the chapter summary scare you, this is a (mostly) happy fic. All will end well, I promise.

Thomas wasn’t sure, but he thought Newt was avoiding him, and Thomas was pretty sure it was because of that letter. That stupid fucking letter that he should never have written. Newt barely answered any of Thomas’s texts, and he hadn’t asked Thomas to come over all week.  
  
Then, a few days later, Thomas got a message from him: _You want to come over tonight?_  
  
_Sure,_ Thomas typed back. Maybe everything would be ok after all, and it was all in his head.  
  
But when he arrived at Newt’s, he could tell right away that something was wrong. Newt was agitated, like he’d been before his exams, but this time he didn’t seem willing to confide in Thomas what was bothering him.  
  
“Hey,” Thomas said as Newt let him in. “What’s up?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
They headed upstairs in silence as Thomas tried to think of something else to say. Their silences were normally never this uncomfortable.  
  
They went into Newt’s room. Thomas sat on the bed. Newt stayed standing. He wouldn’t meet Thomas’s eye, and he was twisting his hands together again. Thomas wanted to ask about the letter, but he was afraid of what Newt would say about it if he brought it up.  
  
“Are you ok?” Thomas asked.  
  
“I’m fine,” Newt answered shortly. He still wouldn’t look at Thomas.  
  
“Do you want to go for a smoke?”Thomas suggested. Sometimes that helped Newt calm down.  
  
“I just went before you got here.” Newt was pacing the floor now. He ran a hand through his hair haphazardly.  
  
“Are you sure you’re ok?”  
  
“Why do you care? You’re not my boyfriend.”  
  
Thomas flinched as if he’d been slapped, then tried to hide it, but Newt had already seen. Thomas thought he looked at least a little sorry, but he didn’t apologise.  
  
Newt sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair again. “I think it was a mistake for us to go exclusive,” he said tiredly. “It’s put too much pressure on everything. It was easier when we both knew we could fuck other people if we wanted to.”  
  
“I don’t want to fuck anyone else,” Thomas said quietly.  
  
Newt just looked at him. As if he pitied Thomas, or thought he was stupid. Or worse, despised him.  
  
_Just don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry in front of him._  
  
“Well, maybe I do. We can still fuck each other sometimes. Just… not all the time. And not exclusively.”  
  
_Don’t fucking cry._  
  
Newt was pulling away from him. Thomas saw him less and less, and every time Newt made an excuse about why Thomas couldn’t come over that night, Thomas felt like a little piece of himself died. But still he couldn’t bring himself to be the one to end it, because the more Newt pulled away from him, the more Thomas wanted him, and he wanted to take advantage of his dwindling time with Newt, every second, even if it hurt more than it felt good.  
  
_It had been 6 days since he’d last fucked Newt._  
  
Thomas saw Newt at a house party, and he was with someone else. The same boy from that night outside the park, Gally. But this time, Newt didn’t smile at Thomas or tease him with his eyes. Aside from seeing Newt with someone else, Thomas felt an additional stab of pain that he wasn’t Newt’s only repeat. That he wasn’t as special to Newt as he’d thought. Thomas went to the kitchen and took shots of vodka until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. It didn’t help.  
  
_It had been 11 days since he’d last been with Newt._  
  
Thomas’s eyes burned with tears as he read the text Newt had sent him: _Maybe this thing has run its course._ Thomas didn’t bother replying; he knew it wouldn’t matter what he said. It was over. Newt said so, and Newt had always called the shots between them.  
  
_It had been 15 days._  
  
Thomas tried to tell himself that this was what he had expected. This was what he had signed up for, by going after a fuckboy. He’d known what Newt was like when he first started flirting with him; in fact, that had been part of what attracted him to Newt in the first place. He’d been expecting to be used like this, so it didn’t hurt. Nothing could hurt him if he could see it coming. The fact that it had gone on much longer, gone much farther, than he’d anticipated, didn’t matter. He’d still known that eventually it must end.  
  
He almost believed it.  
  
_23 days._  
  
“I don’t get it, I thought things were going really well with you two,” Minho said. “What happened?”  
  
“Nothing happened,” Thomas answered, exasperated. “We were never dating, and now we’re just not fucking anymore.” He was getting tired of having to tell people that. “It was never meant to last. Things just… ran their course. And it’s done now.”  
  
Minho watched him carefully. Thomas had a feeling Minho wasn’t buying his charade. “Why don’t you come hang out with me and Brenda tonight?” Minho suggested. “We’re just going to hang around at my flat and watch movies. It could help to take your mind off things.”  
  
“By being your third wheel?”  
  
“It’ll be fun.”  
  
Thomas sighed. Maybe Minho was right; maybe he just needed to do something to take his mind off of Newt. “Ok,” he agreed halfheartedly.  
  
Thomas spent most of the night sitting silently lost in thought, trying too hard not to be jealous when Brenda and Minho held hands or when she leaned her head on his shoulder.  
  
Frankly, it didn’t help any more than the alcohol.  
  
_31 days._  
  
Thomas was out, and he was drunk, and he was on the pull. He didn’t want to be like he was after Aris again, so he was forcing himself to hook up with someone tonight, anyone, it didn’t matter. He ended up going home with a stranger; he never even learned the guy’s name. The whole time, all Thomas could think was that his body felt nothing like Newt’s. When it was over, Thomas sobbed in the bathroom, his face pressed into a towel to muffle the sound.  
  
_34 days._  
  
Thomas waited at the train station. A crowd of people started filtering in from the platform, and then there she was. Teresa.  
  
Thomas pulled her into a hug, surprising even himself with the intensity of the embrace.  
  
“I’m really glad to see you,” he whispered into her ear.  
  
“Me, too,” she whispered back, and they rocked side to side as they clung to each other, laughing.  
  
“How long are you staying, again?” Thomas asked as they finally pulled apart.  
  
“Five days,” Teresa answered, beaming at him.  
  
“Sweet! I can show you around. There’s so many cool places I want to take you.”  
  
“I can’t wait.”  
  
_36 days._  
  
“How do you feel about karaoke?” Thomas asked Teresa hopefully.  
  
“You know I don’t sing in front of people,” Teresa said, rolling her eyes. “But I’ll do it just for you, baby brother,” she added hastily as Thomas started to pout and give her his puppy dog eyes.  
  
Thomas immediately smiled again. Since Teresa had been here, he’d been smiling much more than in the past month.  
  
“Should we invite some of your friends too?” Teresa asked. “I’d like to meet them.”  
  
“Sure! We can get Minho and Brenda to come, and Winston if he’s free.”  
  
“What about that guy you told me about a couple months ago, the one you’re ‘kind of’ seeing?”  
  
Thomas looked down at the floor. “That’s not a thing anymore.”  
  
“Oh.” Teresa looked embarrassed, but Thomas forced a smile, looking up at her.  
  
“It’s ok, we were never really dating, it was more of a friends-with-benefits situation.”  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence, as Teresa seemed unsure of what to say, but then she spoke again. “Well, I call dibs on Faithfully.”  
  
“No fair!” Thomas shouted. “You _know_ that’s my song.”  
  
“Too late, loser! I already called dibs!”  
  
“Well then, I get These Dreams.”  
  
Teresa gave an exaggerated gasp. “How dare you! Try to steal Heart from me!”  
  
“You took Journey!” Thomas argued, laughing. Teresa laughed with him, and Thomas marveled at how suddenly light his heart felt. He hadn’t realised how heavy it had become until the laughter freed him, just for a moment.  
  
“Let’s call a truce,” Teresa suggested. “We can sing Alone as a duet.”  
  
“Only if I get the high harmony.”  
  
_39 days._  
  
“Do you have to go?” Thomas whined into Teresa’s hair as they hugged goodbye at the train station.  
  
“I have to fly back today so I can drive back to school tomorrow,” Teresa answered, holding him tightly.  
  
“You don’t _have_ to go to school.”  
  
“I kind of do. It’s my senior year, it would be pretty disappointing if I flunked out now.” Thomas buried his face in her shoulder, fighting the tears threatening to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I can come visit you again after graduation. How long are you staying?”  
  
“I don’t know, it depends if I get a job or not. My visa lasts until three weeks after graduation, I think.”  
  
“It’s so weird that we’re graduating at the same time,” Teresa remarked.  
  
“I know. I lucked out, I only had to do three years instead of four.”  
  
Teresa stuck her tongue out at him. Then her face got serious again. “I’m sorry none of us will be able to be at your graduation ceremony.”  
  
“Nah, it’s ok, you couldn’t help that they’re almost on the same day. And I understand, no one wants to have to come this far just to sit through a long, boring ceremony.”  
  
“Mom and Dad should be here, though.”  
  
“To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I want them here,” Thomas said baldly. Teresa looked at him sadly. “What? It’s the truth. I’m a different person here than the person they know me as, and I don’t want to have to go back to pretending.”  
  
“I get it. I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s ok, it’s not your fault.”  
  
“I know, but I’m still sorry.”  
  
_45 days._  
  
Thomas had taken to going on long walks, thinking and listening to music. He liked having his earbuds in and the music up loud, it made him feel just separated enough from everyone around him that he could get lost in thought and in looking at the scenery.  
  
To his surprise, his mind went to Aris almost as often as it went to Newt. Aris, who had been his worst heartbreak, until now. But the thought of Aris didn’t hold the same sting that it used to, and Thomas felt like he could finally work through his feelings without breaking down and repressing it all.  
  
It shouldn’t have been so terrible, really. He hadn’t been cheated on (Nice Guy Aris would never have cheated). He had only been broken up with. Nothing that didn’t happen to most people (most people didn’t end up with their first loves, Thomas reminded himself for the thousandth time). But for some reason Thomas just couldn’t get over the feeling of being betrayed, abandoned. It probably didn’t help that Aris had left him for someone else, so even as he was still getting used to being without him, he had to deal with seeing Aris with someone else. Happy (Happier?) without him.  
  
Thomas knew that if he was a good person, he would just want Aris to be happy. But he must not be a good person, because he wanted Aris to be fucking miserable. He wanted Aris to hurt just one tenth as much as he himself had hurt. They’d been in love; or at least Thomas had been in love, and Aris had said he was in love. And then Aris had just thrown their love in the garbage and left to be with someone else. And Thomas had been devastated.  
  
And yet, being with Newt had blown everything with Aris away, so far away that it felt like a distant memory, and the sharp sting had faded to a dull ache, and then almost faded away entirely. Thomas wasn’t sure if he believed in soulmates, at least not in the usual sense. Even if he did, he had never been sure if Aris was his soulmate or not, even before Newt. He had loved Aris, but the way he had felt about Newt was different. The instant attraction; the insane compatibility; the connection they’d had. (Thomas was certain he hadn’t imagined it. Almost. There had been a time when he was certain Newt felt it too. But now he wasn’t so sure.)  
  
The way Newt had felt like coming home.  
  
Logically, he knew it was all caused by chemicals in his brain, that there was no cosmic significance to it. But there was still a tiny part of him that desperately wanted to believe in soulmates, in the idea that one day there would be someone who would never be able to leave him. That their souls were connected, that they were as inevitable as spring after winter.  
  
If soulmates did exist, Thomas thought, Aris couldn’t have been his. He would never have been able to walk away from Thomas so easily if he was. For some reason, Thomas couldn’t bring himself to think the word soulmate in the same sentence with Newt. It would have been too depressing, now that Newt was out of his reach forever.  
  
Love was for the birds, Thomas decided. You gave someone pieces of yourself, and then they just left and took those pieces with them and you could never get them back. Those pieces were just gone, out of your life forever, like the person you’d given them to. Leaving you broken and alone.  
  
Surely your soulmate was supposed to fall in love with you too?  
  
_48 days._  
  
Thomas was lying on his bed, listening to Panic! At the Disco playing from his laptop at a much too loud volume. Because sometimes you just needed to listen to music at a volume level that would damage your hearing. Panic was good breakup music. (Even though it hadn’t been a breakup, Thomas reminded himself. Because they had never been dating.)  
  
Dimly, over Brendon Urie crooning about being caught under the covers with second hand lovers, he heard someone pounding on the door.  
  
Shit. He’d thought all his flatmates were out for the night so he wouldn’t be disturbing anyone with his extra-loud pity party, but someone must still be home. Quickly he turned the volume way down, then went to answer the door.  
  
“I’ve turned it down,” he was already saying as he swung the door open. “Sorry, I th--” he broke off when he saw who was at the door.  
  
It was Newt.


	10. That ultra kind of love, you never walk away from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys work through some shit.

Thomas left the door open, but didn’t say anything, waiting for Newt to explain what he was doing there.  
  
“Tommy,” Newt said quietly. Had he been crying? His eyes were red, and he looked tired. He didn’t have his usual relaxed, easy posture; he seemed to sag slightly.  
  
Thomas still didn’t say anything.  
  
“Tommy, I--I just wanted to tell you…” Newt didn’t seem able to spit out what it was he wanted to say. Finally, with his hand over his eyes, he said, “I missed you.”  
  
“You missed me?” Thomas echoed numbly. His brain didn’t seem to be working; all it could do was repeat Newt’s words in an endless refrain.  
  
“Yeah, I did,” Newt choked out, and then he was sobbing, and Thomas forgot everything that had happened because Newt was crying and it broke Thomas’s heart. Thomas pulled him inside the room, into a hug, closing the door. Thomas dragged Newt over to his bed and they both sat. Newt sobbed onto Thomas’s shoulder for several minutes.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” he choked out between sobs. “I was so stupid. I was afraid…” Thomas wrapped one arm around Newt’s shoulders and used the other to rub his back soothingly. “You wrote me that letter, and it was so sweet, but then at the party when Mary thought you were my boyfriend and you looked so hopeful, I just got so scared, you’re too good for me and I just _knew_ I would fuck it up and hurt you.”  
  
Even though Thomas could feel tears pricking his eyes (he always cried when other people were crying, he couldn’t help it), he managed to give a short laugh. “You thought _I_ was too good for _you_?”  
  
Newt stopped crying and looked up at Thomas, who kept holding him tightly. Now that Newt was back in his arms, he never wanted to let go. “You are, Tommy,” he said, sounding surprised. “That letter proved it.”  
  
“God, that fucking letter,” Thomas sighed. “I should never have written it. Everything was fine until I wrote that stupid letter, it freaked you out and that’s why this happened. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Fuck, don’t apologise for that,” Newt told him, wiping his eyes, then looking at Thomas fiercely, eyes shining. “That letter was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. It’s my fault, I’m such a fucking basket case that instead of reacting like a normal person I freaked out and pushed you away.” Newt started digging into his pocket, and then he pulled out a tightly folded piece of paper. It was Thomas’s letter. Thomas could see that the folded edges were extremely worn, as though it had been unfolded and re-folded several times, and the outside was tinged blue from the dye in Newt’s jeans, as if he had carried it around in his pocket since the day Thomas had given it to him. “I fucking loved this letter, really. I just started freaking out because, well… because I was afraid if we started actually dating I’d find a way to fuck it up like I always do.”  
  
“Why would you fuck it up?”  
  
Newt hesitated; Thomas thought he might be holding his breath. “I’m toxic, Tommy,” Newt blurted out. “I’ve never had a healthy relationship, not one. I don’t think I even know how.” Newt reached a hand up to stroke Thomas’s cheek. “You’re too good for me,” he whispered. “You deserve someone who’s nice to you. Someone who’s as pure and good and lovely as you are.” The sadness in his tone made Thomas’s heart ache.  
  
“Well, it’s too late for that,” Thomas whispered back, “because I’m already in love with you.”  
  
Thomas couldn’t believe he’d just said that, couldn’t believe this was how he revealed the reality that had been creeping up on him slowly over the past few months, but the words were out there now, and he couldn’t take them back because they were absolutely and completely true. All he could do was wait and see what Newt would do with them. Newt looked more scared than surprised; but then again, Thomas had basically told him as much in the letter. He just hadn’t used those exact words. He had never let himself use those words, until now.  
  
“I think I’m in love with you, too,” Newt said quietly, and Thomas felt his heart soar, until Newt’s next word brought it plummeting back down. “But…”  
  
“But?”  
  
“But what if it’s not enough?”  
  
“How can it not be enough?” Thomas asked, his hand going to hold Newt’s face before he consciously decided it.  
  
“Sometimes it’s not.”  
  
“We can make it enough.”  
  
“But what if we can’t?”  
  
“What are you afraid of?”  
  
“I’m afraid of hurting you. Of not being able to stop myself from hurting you,” Newt said. “You won’t be able to cure me, Tommy. Everyone thinks they can, and then they resent me when they can’t and I’m still fucked up.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
“There’s something I haven’t told you about myself. It’s not because of you, I don’t normally tell anyone. It’s just easier to pretend it’s not real.”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Thomas said.  
  
“No, I want to. I want you to know, in case… well. Just in case.”  
  
Thomas frowned in confusion, waiting for Newt to explain.  
  
Newt took a deep breath. “Last year, in August, just before what should have been my third year… I tried to kill myself.”  
  
Thomas felt numb. His hand slipped from Newt’s neck, finding Newt’s hand and clasping it with both his own.  
  
“I can’t even tell you what I was thinking, I just… wanted it to be over. Everything. I didn’t want to have to exist anymore, if that makes sense. So… I took a whole bottle of sleeping pills. If Alby hadn’t found me and taken me to A &E, I could’ve died. Or at least had severe brain damage.”  
  
“Newt,” Thomas breathed, a tear squeezing out of the corner of his eye and trickling down the side of his nose. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that if things had gone differently, he might never even have met Newt. Thomas brought Newt’s hand, still held between his own, to his lips, kissing his knuckles.  
  
Tears were leaking from Newt’s eyes, too. “It scares me so much to think of everything I would’ve missed. I would have missed Sonya growing up.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with his free hand. “I would have missed meeting you.” He used the hand Thomas was holding to pull Thomas’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it slowly, lingering. “Anyway, that’s why I took a year out last year. I was officially diagnosed, and got a year’s leave of absence to focus on my mental health.”  
  
“So you’re getting help?” Thomas asked softly, squeezing Newt’s hand lightly.  
  
“Yeah, kind of. I tried meds for a while, but they didn’t really stick. But I’m still seeing someone, to talk about stuff. Coping strategies, that kind of thing.”  
  
“Is it helping?”  
  
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I still go through rough patches, but I haven’t tried to kill myself again, so I guess that’s progress. But it’s always a struggle, even though some days are better than others. Sometimes I get so tired of fighting.” Newt was looking down at his lap, and Thomas thought he looked exhausted just talking about it. He wished he could do something, anything, to help Newt, relieve him of even a tiny bit of his burden.  
  
Thomas tried to think of the perfect thing to say in response, but in the end, he gave up on trying to say something perfect, and just said what was in his mind. He pulled Newt into a long hug, and in his ear he whispered, “I’m really glad you’re still here, and still fighting.”  
  
Newt clung to him, shaking. “I can’t promise I won’t fuck up, that I won’t hurt you. I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep fighting.”  
  
“But you’re trying, right?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m trying really, really hard.”  
  
“That’s all I ask of you,” Thomas told him softly. “Just to try.”  
  
They stayed up late into the night, lying on Thomas’s twin bed, talking in low voices. They had to lay right next to each other to fit, their faces mere inches apart, breath mingling, legs touching, arms wrapped around each other or tangled up between them. The only light came from the lamp on Thomas’s nightstand, casting everything in a yellowish glow, throwing long shadows over their faces. The conversation meandered, wandering off on tangents before circling back.  
  
“Is it because of school? Because of the stress?” Thomas asked.  
  
“Not exactly. School can make it worse, though. Especially around exam time. But I’ve been like this as long as I can remember.”  
  
“Even as a little kid?”  
  
“Well, it wasn’t exactly the same back then. But I remember being seven years old, laying in my bed and crying because I was so sad but I didn’t know why. I tried to tell my mum, but she just told me to decide not to be sad. And growing up, I always had this feeling that I was secretly mad, and one day I would crack and everyone would find out.”  
  
“You’re not mad,” Thomas told him.  
  
“I know, that’s just how I always felt. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what.”  
  
“When did you find out? I mean, you probably sort of knew before you got the diagnosis, right?”  
  
“I remember when I was still pretty young, maybe about 12? I saw a documentary about Carrie Fisher and how she was bipolar, and it really resonated with me. I think that’s when I kind of figured it out. I mean, I don’t think I’m bipolar,” Newt clarified, “and the official diagnosis was ‘depression and anxiety’. But just, her struggle, what she went through. And at first I was really scared, because she had to go through so much shit on the way to recovery, and it looked really tough. But I had always loved Star Wars, since before I can even remember, and I just thought, ‘If Princess Leia can handle it, so can I’.”  
  
“I fucking love Carrie Fisher,” Thomas said. “And Star Wars.”  
  
Newt smiled, and Thomas smiled back.  
  
...  
  
“What does this mean, for us?”  
  
“I don't know,” Newt answered. “All I know is I can’t stand to be without you. I tried it, and it fucking sucked.” He smiled wryly. “I was a wreck, without you.”  
  
“You didn't…” Thomas trailed off, afraid to finish the thought. His fingers curled around Newt’s wrists and brought them up to his chest.  
  
Newt seemed to read his mind. “I didn’t hurt myself, no,” he answered softly, trying to reassure Thomas. “At least… not directly. I smoked a fuckton of cigarettes. But that doesn’t count,” he said, smiling.  
  
“What happened to sleeping with other people?”  
  
“I don’t want to say I didn’t like anyone else as much as I liked you, but… I think I just said it.” Newt’s mouth quirked down at the ends, his eyes bashful.  
  
“Not even Gally?”  
  
“Jesus,” Newt laughed. “I can’t fucking stand that twat. I only got with him to piss you off.”  
  
“Really?” Thomas laughed with him. “Well, it worked.”  
  
Newt suddenly looked serious. “I’m really sorry,” he told Thomas, taking his hand. His eyes were sad. “I thought maybe if you hated me, it would make it easier for you when we ended.”  
  
Thomas brought his free hand up to rest on the side of Newt’s face, brushing his hair back gently. “I didn’t hate you. I could never hate you.”  
  
Newt’s eyes swam with tears. “Really? Because I hate me. If I were you, I would hate me. I was really shitty to you.”  
  
“We’ve already been over that. It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“How can it not matter? It should matter. You shouldn’t forgive me so easily, I don’t deserve it.”  
  
Thomas thought carefully. How could he explain it to Newt to make him understand? “But you’re sorry. You’ve shown remorse. And you’ve already punished yourself enough, way more than you deserve. And I love you. I couldn’t possibly hold a grudge against you. I’ll always forgive you, immediately, because I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too,” Newt said softly. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
In answer, Thomas moved his head forward, closing the distance between them to kiss Newt, slow and tender.  
  
…  
  
“Tommy?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Are you tired?”  
  
“A little.”  
  
“Do you want to go to sleep?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I like being here with you. I don’t want to miss a second.”  
  
Newt breathed a laugh. “You’re being silly.”  
  
“I know. I don’t care.”  
  
…  
  
“Newt?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I think we should try again. For real this time.”  
  
Newt hesitated. “I’m scared.”  
  
“I’m scared, too. But we already know we can’t be without each other. We were both miserable.”  
  
“What if it doesn’t work out?”  
  
“Then we’ll know we gave it everything we could.”  
  
Silence. Then:  
  
“Tommy?”  
  
“Newt?”  
  
“Ok. Let’s try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story proper, but I'm planning on doing a few one-shots set in the same story/universe which will all be in the Fuckboi Newt series. This story was really just about getting Newt and Thomas together, but there are a few loose ends I want to tie up (for example, regarding Thomas's immigration status and whether he's able to get a work visa after he graduates or not).


End file.
